


Taking Gotham

by Peppin



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Organized Crime, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-09-26 17:16:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 73,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20393293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peppin/pseuds/Peppin
Summary: Kay is a bomb builder working for a declining mob organization. A new game in town removes the weak blood from the equation and makes Kay an offer that is difficult to pass up. Can she meet her new employer's demands while surviving his antics?





	1. Chapter 1

If you want to survive as one of Gotham's many goons, you find ways to make yourself useful. That's what I had done: I'd made myself useful so I didn't get shot in the face. The mob bosses only knew what was useful by what they saw. My employer at the time had seen and knew that I was useful; his peers knew too.

So how do you become useful? Most will show that they are willing to do anything for the boss, others bring specific skills to the table. I'm the latter. My boss kept me around because I built explosives, but also because he could use my mundane nine to five to his advantage. I worked for the city's morgue, and assisted with autopsies. This meant that any homicides that bossman's gang committed were typically covered up by me. Missing bullets; botched fingernail swabs. You get the idea. It was a great system while it lasted.

The last time I saw my old boss was the second week of this past June. The weather was still cool and timid in the evening, and made the walk back to Herman's building a more pleasant experience. Around me, the sounds of the city echoed. All of the honking, police sirens, and gun fire made me feel more at home.

I turned down the alley that we all used as an entrance to avoid suspicion from the cover up business on the other side of the building. A night club wasn't the most inconspicuous front, but Herman liked the extra cash it brought in.

On my way in, I noticed a dirty white van that was parked outside of the door. Bossman had company over. I caught a glance inside; there were three men inside with masks strapped the the tops of their heads.

I slapped with my open palm three times and waited for tonight's door man. A small sliding panel opened and two bright blue eyes peered down at me.

"What the password?"

"Eat a dick," I said, unamused.

The door opened and my eyes adjusted to the blue-tinted LED's blaring on the other side. Ed, the door man peeked his head around the door.

"I was just kidding," he said.

I turned before heading up the stairs.

"It was funny the first two times. After ten, it gets old."

"I'll get some new material," he laughed.

I shot a big smile at him before ascending. On my way up, I heard a guttural, cackling laugh coming from Herman's office. It made me shudder. Whoever his new friend was, I hoped that it was a one and done transaction. That noise was unbearable.

I quickly walked past the slightly ajar office door.

"Oh, Kay!"

I stopped and groaned at the ceiling.

Herman yelled again,"Kay! Come here and meet our new acquaintance."

Great. Another one.

The door creaked as I pushed it open. Herman faced the man sitting in the chair in front of his desk. I could smell the cigarette smoke and sweat on his guest before approaching. The back of his head held a greasy mess of curly green hair. The man turned in his chair and faced me.

"This is Kay," said Herman. "She's our explosives, uh…person."

I nearly gasped at the sight at the man looking up at me. His face was caked in makeup. The areas surrounding his eyes were pitch black and melting into the white patchy paint on the rest of his face. His mouth was swathed by bright red lipstick. On each of his cheeks, there were scars that began on the corners of his mouth and curled up into a permanent, grotesque smile. He slowly licked at the side of his mouth and looked me up and down.

What the hell?

"Hi there," the man said.

His voice was strange. It was unlike anything I'd ever heard before. A deep, almost mocking tone that sounded like it should be coming out of a ventriloquist's dummy instead of a man.

"Hi," I nearly whispered.

Herman cleared his throat.

"Kay, this is the Joker."

This is creepy.

"He's going to be doing some business with us. Him and his boys need a few guns, and I thought I could interest him in some of your, um, products."

My mouth managed a half smile, and I nodded. The bag slung over my shoulder suddenly felt unbearably heavy. I pulled it up and balanced it on the edge of Herman's desk.

The Joker smacked his lips and tilted his head towards me.

"Herman tells me you're one of his best people."

I glanced over at Herman before unzipping and reaching into the bag.

"I might be, I dunno."

He raised his eyebrows at Herman and scrunched his face together before taking another lick at his facial anomalies.

"And humble," he giggled.

I pulled the favorite of my creations out of the bag.

"This is a, uh, timer bomb."

The words left my mouth, but they were unconfident and slow.

He took the device from my hands and examined it in his own, grunting in curiosity.

"How does it work?"

He licked again.

I cautiously inched closer and pointed to one side of the device.

"There's a pin. You pull it and twist the two halves in opposite directions."

He looked up at me from underneath his eyebrows instead of focusing on the device. My eyes darted from his face to the plastic in his hands and back again.

"Aaaand?"

He made me very, very nervous. I lifted my shaky hands and motioned for him to turn it over.

"There's a dial that shows you how long you have before it goes off. And when it explodes, small pieces of shrapnel are expelled."

He sat up straight and chuckled in delight before pocketing the small bomb in his long, purple coat. My jaw dropped open and I turned to check Herman's expression. He only smiled and nodded. He looked almost pleased. His passivity made me cringe.

The Joker stood slowly and rested his purple-gloved hands on Herman's desk.

"I would looooove to see what else your lady friend here has to offer, but unfor-tune-ate-ly, I am a very busy guy."

He stood up all the way and adjusted his coat on his shoulders. It wasn't until he looked at me that I'd noticed how tall he was. He peered down at me like I was a bug he could stomp on. He licked once again and reached up to my face. I caught a whiff of gasoline mixed with cheap cologne. He pinched my cheek before turning and walking out the door.

"We'll be in touch."

"Until next time," Herman called after him.

I didn't want a next time. I was beyond disgusted.

After the door shut behind the clown, I turned to face Herman.

"You have got to be kidding me."

He chuckled and picked up a small glass of rum and Coke that he'd been nursing.

"He's harmless," he continued to laugh before taking another sip. "It's good for business."

I sat down in the chair the Joker had been sitting in and pulled the seat closer towards the desk.

"Herman. You need to be careful. There's something up with that guy, and I don't trust him."

"You don't trust anyone."

I zipped my bag.

"You used to not trust anyone either."

I threw the bag back over my shoulder and turned to leave.

"It will be fine Kay. You'll see!"

The door clicked shut behind me and I rested my hands on the railing surrounding the second floor outside of Herman's office. I looked down in time to see the Joker make his way out. He looked up at me and winked before ducking out the door.

* * *

Herman decided that I should have my own workshop in the building. It kept suspicion away from my apartment, which I appreciated. I walked in and turned on the lights. There were loose pieces of paper piled on the desks and floors, and miscellaneous scraps of junk sitting in cardboard boxes that I'd collected in order to put together my next exploding masterpiece.

I sat down at the desk, set down my bag, and removed my jacket.

The music from the club made the shared wall vibrate from the pounding of the bass.

I picked out a pencil from the cup sitting on the desk and began to absent-mindedly sketch out a new idea. In the back of my mind, all I could see was two endless black pits with eyes staring out from the centers. That man.

I couldn't stop thinking about it. I wanted to know more…but I didn't. Where the hell did he come from? And why have I never heard his name mentioned? I shouldn't want to know more. The Joker utterly repulsed me by both sight and smell. No other mob boss that I had encountered was as disrespectful, or filthy for that matter.

Who knows how long they'd been talking before I showed up. Whatever deal they'd worked out, Herman got the shit end of the stick.

I looked down at my paper to see that I had drawn the eyes that I couldn't get out of my head.

I stood, picked up my bag, and removed myself from the room. As I hurried down the stairs, Herman's office door opened.

"You're leaving already? Don't you have work to do?"

I stopped on the staircase and peered over my shoulder.

"I can't be here right now."

He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Kay. Have I ever put you in a dangerous situation?"

I raised my eyebrows at him while keeping my eyelids halfway shut.

"I mean, a dangerous situation that you couldn't get out of."

I shrugged.

"I guess not," I said.

He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. His grey suit collected dust from the concrete.

"Where the hell did you even find that guy?"

"He found us."

I took a step up the stairs.

"What do you mean he found us?"

He uncrossed his arms and shifted his weight.

"Whaddya mean what do you mean?" He laughed. "He found us through a mutual acquaintance who said we could supply."

"Did he say which one?"

"No. Does it matter?"

I shook my head in disbelief and hurried my descent down the stairs.

"Kay!" He called after me.

"I'll be back tomorrow night!"

I let the large metal door slam behind me.

The next day, I had the day off from my "normal people job." I thought it would be a good opportunity to figure out who our mutual acquaintance was, and I knew just who to ask.

It was late in the evening before I had made my way to him. I stood in front of Falcone's restaurant for a few moments before considering walking in. He and I weren't on bad terms, but the last job I'd done for him didn't go well. Herman had more or less rented me out to him a few months prior, in order to take out a man that refused to pay him back. The charges detonated, but weren't enough to be lethal. The man is now severely disabled. I hadn't visited since before then.

The botched job was justice as far as Falcone was concerned, but I still felt horrible about it. Permanently maiming someone was never my objective.

The bodyguards standing outside nodded towards me and held the door once I'd finally gathered the courage to walk in.

I never had the heart to tell Herman, but I had occasionally visited with Carmine Falcone. Herman's advice was great if you were trying to make a quick buck, but he wasn't the boss that Falcone was. Carmine had been in the game for years, and he knew all of the angles.

"Kay, Kay, Kaaay."

Falcone smiled and gestured to an open seat next to him at the bar.

"Hello Carmine."

He kissed my cheeks and sat back down.

"Never thought I'd see you around here again."

"Well," I sighed. "I can't hide from the rest of you guys forever."

He threw his head back and laughed.

"Kiddo, you did us a favor."

I put my hand up.

"I didn't come here to talk about what happened."

He leaned in.

"Why the hell are you here? Ready to take me up on my offer?"

The bartender set down a stemmed glass in front of me and poured wine from a fancy looking bottle.

"I wouldn't betray Herman. He's been making some questionable decisions lately, but he takes care of me. Always has."

He grinned as he set his glass down in front of him.

"Questionable decisions?"

I nodded.

"Between you and me."

"Alright, why not?"

I took a deep breath and bit my lip.

"He's been buying cheap. Guns, grenades, even C-4. Who the hell buys cheap C-4? And it's not just that. The money that he saves by buying bullshit, he spends on parties. He's going downhill fast, and I don't know what to do."

Falcone raised his eyebrows at me in surprise.

"Jump ship."

I tilted my head at him and frowned.

"I can't do that. Besides, the money isn't even the biggest problem."

I turned my head to look around the restaurant and see if anyone was listening.

"Do you know anything about the Joker?"

His face turned solemn.

"You mean the clown in the purple suit?"

"That's the one."

He paused to take a drink.

"He's visited. I made it very clear that I would not be doing any sort of business with him."

"So you got vibes from him too?"

"Who wouldn't?"

He threw back the rest of his drink.

"He told Herman that he found us through a mutual acquaintance and wanted to buy some weapons."

Carmine carefully set the glass back down on the bar and closed his eyes.

"Stay out of there, kid. Don't go back."

"What do you know?"

"Nothing. That's the problem. No one does. But I can guarantee that there is no mutual acquaintance. Don't know how he would have known how to find you guys, but none of us sent him your way. We know jack shit."

I picked up the glass in front of me and gulped its contents.

I knew then, and especially now, that Falcone was absolutely correct. I should have listened, but I didn't want to let Herman find out the hard way. I needed to get back to his place and tell him that we needed to relocate. Maybe even hire more guys.

I quickly jogged my way up the street, but stopped short of the alleyway when I saw a familiar white van parked next to the sidewalk. I ducked into a doorway and peeked around the corner. There were men in clown masks filling the back of the van with boxes. I knew those boxes. There were guns in them.

Additional men armed with automatic rifles watched on while the others packed the van. There was no sign of their boss.

I crouched down and carefully approached. They had all turned their backs towards me and had focused their attention on tetrising everything into the van. The light from the overhead street lamps threatened to expose me as I quietly passed behind them and snuck into the alleyway. I stopped to hide behind a dumpster before moving forward. I saw that the thick steel door was wide open. It should never be open.

There were footsteps coming down the stairs. More men with more boxes to place inside the van. But that wasn't it. They had the boxes that contained the junk I collected for building bombs.

What the hell is going on?

After the men had passed my hiding spot, I stood and quickly ran past the door. I stole a glance inside the door as I passed. Clowns. Fucking clowns. Nightmare fuel.

I ran until I got around the corner to a group of windows that oversaw one of the back rooms where we all congregated. I pulled myself up on top of another dumpster. The light coming from inside the window nearly blinded me. Slowly, I peaked up over the window's ledge and inside of the building.

Inside, I saw that there were men going through the rooms on the upper floors. I inched myself up higher to look down into the room. My fears were confirmed. Down on the floor Herman, the doorman, and two more of our cohorts were kneeling with their hands above their heads. In front of them, pacing, was the Joker. He was speaking to them.

I tried to lean in so I could hear what he was saying, but I couldn't make any of it out. One of the clowns came down the stairs and handed the Joker a thick stack of papers. I recognized them right away. They were the papers from my workshop. They were my designs.

He flipped through the pages for a moment, and turned his attention towards Herman. Words were exchanged between them. Herman shook his head. The Joker threw the papers above his head and let them float towards the floor. As the pages dropped, he pulled a gun from his pocket and pointed it at Herman.

"No!" I whispered.

I was helpless and unhelpful. Even if I had created a distraction, it only would have delayed the inevitable. I was outnumbered and suddenly overwhelmed.

The gun was fired, and the brains flying from out the back of Herman's head splattered in the faces of the men quivering behind him. He slumped forward and some of the floating papers nestled themselves on his back.

A scream escaped my mouth. I covered my face with my hands and ducked down. Bile burned the back of my throat, but did not escape.

Did he see me?

There was silence. No sign of anyone coming for me. I slowly began to stand again. Upon reaching the window, my eyes widened and my heart nearly stopped. The black holes were staring at me. I quickly jumped down off of the dumpster and began to sprint away. Behind me, I heard the window's glass shattering and a loud thud on top of the dumpster. He was coming.

He's going to kill me.

My lungs and legs were on fire, but I couldn't let him catch me. I ran to the next street block, hoping that I could find somewhere to hide. At the end of the next alley, the white van screeched to a halt and blocked my only exit. The doors flew open, and clowns emerged. I turned to run back, but I could see a tall silhouette standing at the other end of the alley.

I threw down my things and looked at the surrounding walls. There was a ladder leading up to the rooftop, but it was out of reach from where I stood. The Joker saw my goal and began to approach more rapidly. I backed up and started to run towards the ladder. I jumped and held fast to the rusted rungs while I used the all of my strength in order to pull myself up.

Below me a hand grabbed hold of my ankle and pressed its fingertips into my skin. I yelped and wrapped my arms around the ladder. I used my other leg to try to kick away the hand that had me.

The hand's voice cackled beneath me. I looked down to see him staring back, smiling and enjoying himself.

My foot found his face and kicked it away. He let out a frustrated yell and shook his head. Seconds later I heard a small click. Afterwards, an immeasurable and intense pain grew in my calf. He plunged a blade into me. I kicked harder at his wrist and was let go. I pulled myself up and felt the knife that was stuck into my leg pull at the muscle.

Once I reached the top, I pulled myself up and over the building's ledge. I screamed out in agony. The pain was unbearable. I pulled the blade from my oozing calf. He was still coming.

I stood and half hobbled, half jogged along the rooftop. I could hear him reaching the top of the ladder. I ducked down behind the rooftop access and listened for his advance.

"Come out. Come out, wherever you aaaaaaaare," he sang in an odd cadence.

I covered my mouth and silently wept.

The footsteps came closer.

"Kaaaaaaayyy. Where aaaare you? I'm not gonna hurt you."

I looked to my side and saw that the blood trickling from my leg had created a trail leading straight to me. The footsteps stopped.

He peered around the corner and stared down at me. I turned and began to frantically crawl away. He slowly continued his pursuit. I pushed myself up from the ground and tried to stand. His hand once again wrapped around my leg and pulled me back.

"Where are we going in such a hurry?"

I began to wave the knife in front of me in hopes that it would put some space between us. It didn't even phase him. He laughed at me.

"You should put that down. Someone could get hurt," he teased.

He took my wrist and yanked the knife from my grip. I turned my face away and covered my head with my arms as he lowered himself to straddle my waist.

"Oh, ho, ho. No, I'm gonna need you to look at me."

I curled my head down tighter into my chest.

He leaned in closer towards me and whispered in my ear.

"Look. At. Me."

He tore my arms away from my head and pinned them to my sides. I looked up to see his scrunched up face mocking my cries. I felt the edge of the blade scraping against my neck; I waited for the sting of my flesh being sliced open. His other hand held my face still.

"Shhh, shush. Don't fight now. Iiii need you to listen. To. Me," he licked his lips before continuing. "I needed Herman out of the way. The man was destructive. Can't have that."

He shook his head and studied my face.

"You, on the other hand, you're in an interesting position. You're useful," his voice raised in pitch.

He was so animated as he spoke, it was almost mesmerizing. Every carefully annunciated word that spilled from his mouth was possessive. Every syllable was punctuated by his shaking head or slithering tongue that was constantly protruding in and out of his mouth.

"What do you want," I croaked.

"So glad you asked!"

He opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted. A leather-clad fist cut through the air and made contact with the side of the Joker's head.

I gasped to let out the breath that I didn't realize I was holding, and rolled to my side.

The large black figure that had just subdued my aggressor turned its entire upper body to look at me.

"You should get out of here," it growled.

I wholeheartedly agreed and complied with its advice and nearly fell back down the ladder. I dropped myself to the ground and saw that the alleyway was now covered with unconscious clown bodies. Some were still moaning out in pain.

Despite the discomfort in my lower extremity, I ran all the way back to my apartment. I didn't stop for anything. The adrenaline made my heart feel as if it would jump out of my chest.

Once inside, I slammed my front door shut. I turned the lock, slid the chain into its slot, and propped a chair underneath the door handle. My body collapsed to the floor, and I let out a mournful howl.


	2. Chapter 2

The light broke through my windows at daybreak and forced my eyes wide open. I was still laying in the middle of the floor. I must have fallen asleep as I laid there sobbing. The realities of the night before almost immediately stole my mind away. I dropped my head to the side and rolled over to push myself up.

The clock on the wall read 8 am. I had to be to work at 9.

I peeled my jeans away from the bloody wound on the back of my leg. The warm water spraying from the shower head made it sting and throb. I'd decided that I would steal a suture kit from work so I could pull it together later on. I felt a small cut on my neck from the knife that had threatened me hours earlier.

I toweled myself off and stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My pale skin was now more ghost-like. There were large purple bags resting underneath each of my eyes. I looked like I had aged thirty years just overnight.

Pull it together. Get to work.

I got dressed and limped out the door. My stomach grumbled while I walked down the sidewalk, but I wasn't sure that I could have kept anything down if I had eaten. My eyes darted around from side to side, scanning the faces of anyone that came near or stole a glance my way, and looking for anything that resembled a clown. I was typically aware of my surroundings, but today I was hyper vigilant. I probably looked like an addict.

On the bus, I told myself that I'd be safe at work like it was my mantra. There was no way a group of homicidal clowns was going to make it into a secured government building. I almost thought of ways that would allow me to stay at work later into the evening.

The revelation that Herman and the rest of the guys could have been found at this point occurred to me. And I would have no choice but to silently watch them be dissected and play dumb. I knew better than to go to the police. The police did absolutely not equal safety. Loyalties could be purchased in Gotham, either by money or fear.

I scanned my badge at the building's entrance and walked in a zombified state towards the locker room. When I entered, I heard the familiar tune of my coworkers' laughter. I shuffled towards my locker and changed into my scrubs.

"Kay!"

I jumped and gasped at the sound of my name.

"Jesus!" I yelled.

It was Piper, one of the other autopsy technicians.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you."

She stared at my face for a moment.

"Are you okay? You look like you've had a rough night."

"I guess you could say that," I replied slowly and hushed.

"Did you go out?"

I shook my head.

"No, I uh…"

I turned my head while I thought of an excuse that didn't involve watching other people getting shot in the face.

"I just didn't sleep very good."

"Oh," she replied. "Well I have some extra coffee in my thermos if you need it."

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

She smiled and handed me a list of the day's case assignments. I scanned through the decedents' names to see if I could find any sign of Herman. I was relieved to find that I wouldn't have to cross that road today.

I put on my mask, apron, gloves, bonnet, and sleeve covers and stepped into the autopsy suite. The scent of decomposing flesh was strong that particular morning. I could still smell it, but it no longer bothered me the way it used to.

Everyone was busy with their own cases and didn't acknowledge me as I walked towards my assigned table. Which was fine by me, the less people asking me questions about how I looked, the better. I was afraid that if anyone asked me anything else I would burst out in tears and relay the grisly details. It was my burden to bare, and venting wasn't an option.

I'm unsure what it was about removing organs from the body cavity of a dead person, but it always left me feeling calm and collected. Maybe it was the concentration it involved that distracted me. Maybe it was the oddly satisfying way the connective tissue pulled away like plastic on new electronics.

I handed a set of lungs over to the case's pathologist. Dr. Mikef turned them over on his cutting board and looked them over before creating thin slices with his long knife.

"How've you been, Kay?" He looked up at me while asking. "Haven't seen you in a minute."

I shrugged.

"Alright, I suppose. Same shit, different smell."

He raised his shoulders as he laughed.

I moved back to the other side of the table to continue eviscerating, but I'd bumped into someone.

"Sorry."

"No worries."

It was my supervisor.

"Kay, I need you to do one more. That okay?"

Not okay.

"Yeah, no problem."

He pulled a gurney with a body bag sitting on top of it towards the wall opposite of me.

"Great! You just need to pull tox. It's not a full autopsy."

"Okay. Thank you."

I looked over my shoulder to look at the body bag. There was a gap between the top and bottom zippers at the head of the bag.

"Hey, do you want me to get that one started for you?"

A student technician had approached me.

"Um. Hold off for now. Give me about twenty minutes. If I haven't gotten to it by then, take them in the back and start undressing."

"There's no way you'll be done in twenty minutes."

I sighed and set down my scalpel.

"Okay. Take them in back and start undressing."

He nodded excitedly and took the body to one of the tables in the back of the suite. Dan was a nice kid, just really strange.

"He seems eager," Mikef said.

"Give it a few months," I laughed. "He'll be miserable like the rest of us."

"You're not miserable, you've got me."

I felt myself blush underneath my mask. I was lonely in my line of work, and anything that sounded even remotely like companionship made me turn beat red. That, and I had a thing for Dr. Mikef.

"H-hardly," I retorted.

Smooth as butter, Kay.

Dan approached the table again, his face was just as red as my own.

"You are going to want to see this. It's hilarious!"

I laughed.

"What is it? Drugs? Sex toys?"

"No, this dude is wearing makeup and a purple suit!"

My head jerked towards him as he started to walk back towards the table.

"Dan, stop! Is anyone else back there?"

"Yeah, Kate just went back there to help. Why?"

I ripped my bloody gloves and sleeve covers off of my arms and pushed him out of the way to get through the door.

"Did I do something wrong, Kay?"

"No, just stay out here," I barked.

I walked down the corridor to the table they were working at. I pressed the button that opened the sliding door and walked in. Kate was standing next to the body. I took a few steps forward to see the Joker laying in the body bag. I wasn't sure if he was actually dead, but I wasn't counting on it.

"Hey!" Kate waved.

I pulled down my face mask and waved my hand towards me.

"Kate. Come. Come here."

"Are you alright?"

I breathed deep and repeated myself.

"Please. Come here."

I looked for any signs of life coming from the bag, never making eye contact with Kate.

"Oookay," she said.

She stepped towards me, and I ushered her out the door.

"Kay?"

"Go," I whispered.

She was leaving, but I could hear other technicians approaching from down the hallway. I cautiously approached the gurney. His face was stoic and still. There was no twitching, and his chest did not move. I wanted very badly to hit him over the head with one of the heavy metal table pieces, but if he was actually dead I'd get into trouble for hitting a body. The other technicians were watching me through the door.

I lifted my shaky hand to his neck to feel for a pulse. The door opened behind me.

"Kay. What the hell is going on?"

The Joker's body sat up from the gurney and shot my supervisor in between the eyes. The rest of the technicians ran away screaming. I let out my own blood curdling shriek and backed away from the gurney. He swung his legs over the side and he hopped down.

My body violently shook and my legs tripped over themselves while I unwittingly backed myself into a corner. He stuffed the handgun back into his jacket pocket and reached into the other side to pull out the same switch blade from the evening prior.

I held my hand out in front of me and frantically shook my head back and forth.

"Please," I wept.

He laughed, and hard.

"Please?!"

He opened the blade and came closer. I flattened my back and hands against the wall behind me and tilted my head down. He pulled the bonnet off of my head and took a handful of my hair. My head was forced upwards so my eyes were level with his chin. His tongue jabbed at a scar on his bottom lip that I hadn't noticed until now.

"Polite, but unfortunate-ly, you ran off before I could finish talking."

He pulled me in closer, and I felt his greasy makeup rubbing against my face.

"And this time, the Bat isn't here to interrupt," he said, nearly growling.

As he spoke, I felt the scar on the side of his face moving up and down.

He moved back, nodded, and stared up at the ceiling as if he was thinking about what to say next. His eyes met mine and his head continued to bob as he spoke.

"I'm going to need you tooo…come with me."

He moved his tongue around his mouth and sucked at his cheek, causing a small pop as he let go. His teeth were light brown and looked like they'd been caked in years' worth of cigarette smoke and whiskey. He was repulsive.

"What do you want with me?"

He produced a giggle that stayed closed in his throat.

"Oh, I'm ready to get back into the dating world."

I grimaced.

"Relax," he said as he lightly slapped my face with the hand that was still yielding a knife. "It's a joke."

"Put your fucking hands up!"

The Joker turned to look over his shoulder and saw a police officer in the hallway pointing his gun at us.

"Step away from her!"

"Nothing personal," he said to me.

He pushed me in front of him and wrapped his arm around my chest.

"Let's not lose our heads now."

"I said put your hands up!"

The Joker clicked his tongue inside his mouth. He used his chest to push me closer towards the officer.

"Or, now hear me out, you put the gun down or Iiiii kill the girl."

I gripped his coat and felt its dirt and grime cling to my hands.

The officer backed up.

"Drop the knife!"

He forced me closer once more and raised the blade close to my face. I whimpered.

"Sssshhhh. Sh. Sh. Hush."

"Alright, I'm gonna count down. And by the time I get to one, the knife better be on the ground. I will shoot!"

"Mmmhmm."

He bumped me closer and shuffled behind me.

"Thre-"

The Joker lifted the blade behind his head and threw it in the officer's direction. It planted itself deep in the officer's eye socket. The officer dropped his gun and collapsed to the ground. The Joker removed his arm from around my chest and clawed his fingers around my arm, pulling me along beside him.

Out on the main floor, my coworkers and the pathologists were sat against the wall while the Joker's men pointed their weapons at them, daring the group to make a move.

The group stared at me in disbelief as we passed by.

"No more police," I said shakily to the group. "Don't call again."

The Joker cackled.

"Great idea!"

I untied my apron and let it drop as we passed through the door on the way out of the suite.

The van took a complicated route back to the Joker's hideout. My stomach twisted and turned with each corner. Myself and the men wearing clown masks were packed into two bench seats in the back, while he sat in the front passenger's seat. The driver was another clown that seemed to have the convoluted path memorized.

The Joker passed his time by scribbling in a notebook and giggling to himself. He sat sideways with one leg planted in the space between him and the driver and the other in front of his seat. I sat next to the window behind the driver's side and took occasional side glances at him. If I wasn't so afraid of him, I would have just thought he was quirky and fun.

About forty-five minutes after we had left the facility, we arrived at a run down building on the west side of the city. The area was not familiar to me. The van doors opened, and I began to turn and shift my weight in preparation for getting out. But no one was moving. The men, who were chatty just a moment ago, were now silent. They were all staring at him. He was still writing something down and grunting. He made an exaggerated dot on the page by lifting and dropping his arm. He then closed the notebook and turned towards his audience.

"Shall we?"

The doors opened and in rushed a gust of wind that cooled my skin. The summer heat was setting in and being bunched up like sardines in a can had made me sweat.

The Joker got out of the van and shut the door behind him. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and lit one while he leaned against the passenger door. I smelled the exhale of the long careful drag he took while he watched the van empty. I scooted myself across the bench seat and got down from the van. He pulled me aside by my shirt.

"Mm. You, come with me."

He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and leaned forward.

"Get this van unpacked," he said to the clowns. "Hurry up!"

He placed his hand on my shoulder and pushed me forward. I looked up at the building as we got closer to the entrance, and saw that the windows were covered by wood panels from the inside. The door that we were walking towards was padlocked shut. The Joker felt around in his pockets and came up with a small key attached to a ring with three other keys and a unicorn keychain. He pushed the small key into the padlock and twisted it.

"Home sweet home."

His hand pushed on my lower back and guided me through the doorway. The inside of the building boasted three levels, each surrounded by metal catwalks that oversaw the main floor below. The middle of the room contained a long wooden table covered in boxes of ammunition and empty magazines. Off to the left side of the room, underneath the stairs was the entrance to a full sized kitchen. The walls were covered in large pieces of paper that mapped out various locations in the city, as well as photos of various members of the GPD. In the middle of the scribbled out plans and photos, there was a crudely drawn picture of Batman with a knife stuck into it.

We moved out of the way of the door and he motioned for me to follow him up the stairs. He took another long drag and flicked the cigarette over the railing before it was finished.

"Our group is smaller than what you're probably used to. Less guys means less, uh, disappointment."

A cloud of smoke trailed behind him and wafted into my face. I waved my arms to dissipate its affect. We climbed the stairs up to the second story. He stopped in front of a black door and turned the handle.

"After you," he said as he waved his hand in front of him.

I placed my hands on opposite elbows and gingerly crept into the dark room. He slapped at the wall beside me until he located the light switch. The switch turned on a lone lamp in the back of the room that stood next to a large wooden desk. The desk was strewn with loose papers and stacks of books.

"Why don't you have a seat?"

I sat down in a wooden chair in front of the desk while he walked around to the other side and sat down in a swivel chair that was nearly falling apart. It creaked as he settled in.

"So," he began, "you're probably wondering what all of this is about. Why me? Right?"

He began to shuffle around in his pockets again before pulling out a familiar looking device. It was the timer bomb. He tossed it into the middle of the desk.

"I took your little toy apart to see how you put it together. I'm impressed."

I furrowed my brow and wondered where this was going.

"I want you to work for me. Just building stuff that explodes. Aaaand you can stop going to the human butcher shop," he laughed.

I remained silent, still staring at the device on the table. He snapped his fingers in my face to get my attention.

"You still with us?"

I looked up.

"What if I say no?"

He opened his arms wide.

"Without hearing my offer?"

I closed my eyes and put my head in my hands.

"I just want to go home."

"Oh, you'll get to go home, just not quite yet. Listen."

His hands constantly moved and gestured as he spoke. It was like he'd implode if he stayed still or silent for more than a few moments.

I lifted my head once again.

"Fine. I'll listen."

"Good," he tittered. "Now, me, personally, I don't have much need for money aside from providing the basics."

Apparently, the basics did not include a clean suit or a shower.

"But I get the impression that you're motivated by money."

"It definitely helps."

He pulled the side of his mouth back to allow his tongue to prod.

"I'll give you five hundred k. Half when you finish your first job, the other half when you prove you can be trusted."

I nearly burst out in laughter. There was no way this man had that much money, let alone five bucks to spare for his smokes.

"Where are you getting that kind of money?"

"That's for…me to worry about."

I sighed, "So, what if I say no?"

He bit his bottom lip and grunted as he exhaled; I had annoyed him. His hand rustled around in his coat and produced a small revolver. The arm holding the revolver extended across the desk and aimed for the middle of my chest. He didn't say anything – and I suppose he didn't have to, he only smiled and waited for me to respond.

I nodded, "What do you need me to do?"

His smile grew wider and he withdrew the gun, pointing it up towards the ceiling. From the days proceeding up until that point, there was one finite thing that I'd understood about the Joker: he was absolutely relentless. If there was something that he wanted badly enough, he was going to get it. It didn't matter how.

He pulled open a drawer on the front of the desk, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and threw it to my side of the table. I slowly picked up the paper from the edge of the desk and unfolded it. Inside, there were blueprints for the government facility I'd been kidnapped from less than an hour ago.

"What are you willing to do?"

I thought of all of my coworkers, and the doctors that I had worked with over the past year and a half. All of the laughter, and drunken nights out together.

A distressed, "Why?" left me.

His chair squealed in distressed as he rocked forward and back, laughing.

"I have a plan," he began while his hands molded his words in the air in front of him. "And throughout the course of this plan, a lot of people are going to die. The citizens of Gotham need to lose faith in their government, and the delay of closure for their so called 'loved ones' is going to fuel that fire."

I felt nauseated. Death begetting death. How could someone be so bitter and hateful? And what was in it for him?

"You don't seem too…on board," he said as he waved the gun around in his hand

I pushed myself back from the desk, trying to avoid any accidents.

"I mean," I began. "…I guess I just don't understand."

"Get down of that high horse. You've got plenty of blood on your hands."

He wasn't wrong.

"Herman never sent me after innocent people. When I was called in, it was for someone who had screwed him."

The Joker narrowed his eyes at me. The creaking chair was forced back and made a loud "crack!" when it hit the wall. He slowly crept around the desk; his fingertips sliding across the wooden top and holding the revolver with the other. The floorboards underneath each of his excruciatingly long steps moaned and croaked. He sat on the edge of the front of the desk, facing me. I didn't have the courage to look at him. If he was going to shoot me, I wanted it to be a surprise.

He didn't shoot me, but it was a surprise. He backhanded me across the face with so much force that it knocked me sideways out of the chair. I landed on the floor and held my throbbing jaw with my hands. The floorboards began to creak again, and I saw his knee lower to the floor next to my shoulder. His free hand's fingertips slid up the nape of my neck and clutched my hair by the roots. My body did a backwards arch as he yanked my head back.

"I need you to listen…VERY carefully. I don't care if I gotta BEAT it into you, but you will listen."

I attempted to move to release the intense grip he had on me. He held me between his knees and forced me to stay put.

"No one is innocent. Not in this city. That's the point, and that's the only point you need to understand. Get it?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed, nearly screaming.

He threw my head down at the floor and stood above me. I could hear my fingertips tap against the floorboards due the uncontrolled tremors flowing through me.

His feet confidently strode towards back to the other side of the desk and he sat back down in the noisy chair.

In a normal tone, he said, "get up." Like the last few moments never occurred.

I guardedly began to rise, listening for any other movements.

"GET. UP!"

He picked up a book that was sitting on the desk and threw it in my direction. Not wanting to incite his temper any further, I quickly obeyed and forced myself up off of the floor. I awkwardly stood in front of the desk, silently praying for the conversation to end.

"You've got two days."

I whispered, "Okay."

He smiled, smugly as if he'd just won a game of Monopoly.

"Now get out."

I slowly backed out the door. I wasn't willing to turn my back on him. As soon as I stepped foot out the door, I began to run. I heard the cackling hysterics echoing from the room until I got out the door that lead back to the white van. The men in the masks only watched me. I kept going, although I had no clue where I was or where I'd be headed. I'd keep going until something looked even remotely familiar, even if it meant I was running forever.

The sun began to go down, and I still had no idea where I was. The streets of Gotham were never particularly kind, but they were even worse for those who were vulnerable. My purse was still at work, and I'd left my cell phone at home, fearing that I would be tracked. But they found me without it. Everything had happened so quickly, it was like someone was playing a cruel prank and was trying to drive me crazy. Why did he need me anyway? If he was able to take apart my device without being blown up, then he knows enough about explosives without my assistance.

My feet shuffled along the concrete and asphalt, tearing the bottoms of the scrub pants I was still wearing. The tattered ends gathered the mud and dirt along my path. In the distance, I heard the waves from the beach nearby. I could see the beach from my apartment far away, so I gained a general knowledge of where I might be. But I was exhausted. Both emotionally and physically. My face and the back of my head ached from being hit and pulled. The leg that the Joker had stabbed began to sting with every step that I took.

The smell of the ocean's salt beckoned me towards it, feeling as if it might be the most friendly thing I'd encountered since the beginning of the current nightmare I was living. I stumbled towards the water and dipped my hands in, splashing the cool water on my face and tasting its acidity flowing over my lips. I sat in the water and let the waves roll over me.

Twilight was beginning to break, and I watched the last remnants of the day's sun fade underneath the horizon


	3. Chapter 3

I found myself yet again standing in front of a building I was too apprehensive to walk into. The morgue stood in front of the rising sun and cast a shadow over my head. Before I did anything else, I needed my things out of the locker room. I was still wearing the scrubs with the shredded pant bottoms. I was soaking wet, bruised, and the exhaustion I felt was making me nearly brainless. I was on my feet nearly the entire day after I'd run from the Joker's place. Gotham city is gigantic, and it's nearly impossible to make it anywhere in a reasonable amount of time on foot.

There were no other employees around, and no security to stop me and ask questions about the day before. Approaching the door, I lifted my badge and waited for the scanner beep that would show that the door was unlocked. I gradually walked across the floor of the main lobby. There was police tape closing off the areas that led to the main autopsy suite.

What if the police took my things?

I rested my ear against the locker room door before entering. I really did not want to answer any questions, especially if they came from the police. Sure, I could have sent the entire GPD to the hideout, but if he had gotten out and found me I'd be worse off.

Once I was sure enough, I opened the door. The lights clicked on and I was met with silence. My locker squeaked open, and inside was my clothes and bag. I looked inside my purse to see that my laptop and wallet were untouched. I changed as quickly as I could; the morning shift would be in soon.

The purse pulled heavily on my sore shoulder and felt like it would force me to the floor. As I passed the last set of lockers, the door to the room opened and in walked Piper. She stopped and stared at me like I had come back from the dead.

"Kay! Holy shit!"

I started walking again with the intention of going past her. She blocked my escape.

"What the hell happened? Who were those people?"

"Nothing happened. Those people were no one."

I picked up the badge from around my neck and placed it in her hands. She looked down at it and back up at me like I had broken her heart. Her green eyes began to blink away tears.

"You can't do that," she said as her voice quivered. "They killed people. What's wrong with you?!"

I'm a sympathy crier. My own voice and eyes began to mimic hers.

"I can't…Piper, I can't. You don't understand what's going on here…and honestly, maybe I don't either."

"Let me help you. The police, they can-"

"NO! They can't! There's a lot that you don't know about me. All I can tell you…get out of here. Stay out. Don't come back."

The tears were dripping from her chin.

"Take care of yourself," I cooed. "And please, I was never here."

She backed away from the door and allowed me to pass.

—-

I soaked my afflicted body in the bathtub while I looked over the blueprints that the Joker gave, or rather, threw to me. Two days was very little time to come up with a plan to make the building go down. And did it include the day we met? Or was it starting today? A strange feeling, almost dread-like came over me. He had planted copious amounts of paranoia and fear into my head, and it was growing exponentially.

Maybe he wants me to fail.

But if the plan was to kill me regardless, why give me the chance? He could have just done it.

I set down the blueprints next to the tub and stared at the ceiling.

"I could just leave," I breathed aloud to myself.

I sat up, sloshing bright blue colored water over the side of the tub.

I could leave. I'll go back to Michigan. I don't think he would come after me, I'd just have to not come back to Gotham. Ever.

The carpet was wet from every dripping step I took to the bedroom. I put on clean clothes and packed more into a backpack. I shoved everything I felt I needed (and could fit) into two bags and headed out the door. I was only a few blocks away from the train station. As I walked down the complex's hallway to the elevator, I checked the itinerary from my cellphone. There was a train leaving Gotham and stopping in Chicago that was due to leave in two hours. It wasn't exactly where I wanted to be, but it was away from where I was.

I reached the front door and headed down the sidewalk when I saw it: the white van. I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared. There were two men leaning against its sliding doors, staring back. They smirked. I turned on my heels and ran back up the steps. I jogged to the back door of the complex. More of them stood outside of the door and pressed their masked faces to the window. I hurried back to my apartment. Once inside I walked to the bedroom window that served as access to the fire escape. More of them waited at the bottom. He knew that I would try.

I sat my bags down next to me and broke down. There was no escaping this; I was going to be forced into doing what he wanted.

Why pay for a job that I couldn't turn down?

Nothing made sense about any of this.

I walked back into the living room that I was so ready to abandon just moments before and removed my shoes. I'd picked up the blueprint that was still soaking on the bathroom floor and spread it out on the floor of the living room. My thick, heavy sketchbook was opened and I flipped its pages back and forth for references. I began to plot the destruction of the facility.

—

For two days, I didn't leave my apartment. I didn't go to my favorite coffee shop for a soy chai, and I didn't go to lunch with friends. Any phone calls that were received were sent directly to voicemail. Texts messages were left unanswered. I only sat on the floor, sketching and erasing. By the evening of the second day, my head was full of disgusting ideas that would end the lives of many people that used to trust me. It was perfect: after charges were placed and the detonator was pressed, the whole thing would be going down within seconds. It was terrifying to create something so powerful.

I stood up from the floor and looked out the front windows. The sun was beginning to set. I looked down onto the street to see if the van was still there. It was. But still no sign of him. I wasn't sure whether I should surrender myself to his men, or wait for them to come get me.

Fuck 'em. Let them come for me.

So I stayed put and poured myself a bowl of cereal. My work was completed, he just needed to see it. I sat on the kitchen counter and moved the sugar spheres around the bowl with my spoon.

The moon rose and lit up my dark home. Outside my front door, I heard the stampede of multiple footsteps coming down the hallway. Then, a quick and playful knock on the door. I dropped myself down off of the counter and set the bowl down. Through the peephole, I saw him licking his lips and smiling back at me. Behind him were the men that had been watching for me.

Was he down there with them the whole time?

I pulled the chain and opened the door.

"Evening," he purred as he pushed the door open further.

His accomplices pushed me back into the apartment. He flicked on the lights and began to look around.

"Nice place you got here."

He picked up the bowl of cereal off of the counter and began to shovel it into his mouth. We listened to him chew hurriedly with his mouth open. He looked up at me as if he was expecting me to say something about it. I was too tired to care.

He pointed at me with the spoon, "So. What do you have for me?"

I closed my eyes and exhaled loudly through my nose before turning into the living room and standing over my sketches. He took one more bite and set the bowl back down, still chewing as he came closer to me. His long legs bent as he squatted to get a better look. His gloved hand ran over my notes and drawings, pointing and tapping on certain areas as he went. He then picked up my sketchbook and flipped through it. My pulse throbbed wildly in my head.

He rotated his head and looked up at me; his bottom lip set in between his teeth. His stuck-together green tresses fell in front of his eyes.

Should I just jump out the window?

He picked up the edges of the blueprint, folded it back up and placed it inside of the sketchbook, placing it under his arm as he stood. Now, I wanted to say something.

"Great work. I'll let you know when we can start."

He tapped his hand on my cheek before turning around and walking towards the door.

"Oh," he said as he extended his index finger into the air. "Almost forgot."

He turned to face me.

"I can't have you trying to leave town again. Why don't you go get those bags you packed?"

I hadn't said a word since he came in, and I struggled to find the correct thing to say. I only looked at the floor, feeling defeated.

"…this is my home."

His mouth pulled to one side and his eyes squeezed together.

"It may be time to relocate," he said, laughing.

Behind him, more of his men came through the doors carrying gas cans and began to pour their contents across the floor and furniture. My mouth fell open and my hands ran through my hair. I watched as all of my belongings were being prepared to be set ablaze.

"Better hurry."

I wanted to hit him and knock the look of self-satisfaction off of his face. Instead, I moved around him and walked into the bedroom; he followed behind me. He stood in the doorway while I picked up the bags that were still sitting near the window. I was silently observed, without a doubt making sure that I didn't make a getaway down the fire escape.

We stood in the hallway while the rest finished up. I looked through the open door and took in a final glimpse of the life I'd built for myself. He made it so I'd have to rely on him for everything. It was an awful feeling. He casually lit a cigarette and puffed on it while we waited.

"Don't get worked up. All of this, no one needs it. You think you do, but you don't."

Once the place was sufficiently doused, the men joined us. The lit cigarette was flicked and fell into the entrance way of the apartment. The smoke and flames bit at the crack at the bottom of the door. I was heralded down the stairs and out the front door. From the window of the van, I watched the front windows blow out and shower the sidewalk below with glass.

—-

My room at his place was more of a prison cell than a room. There was a thin mattress on the floor, and a small desk in the corner that I set up my sketchbooks and pencils on. For the first couple of weeks, I spent the majority of my time there, alone. There was a bathroom attached that made it more habitable, but not by much. The Joker would come in at odd hours throughout the day and night to let me eat or to scare me. I guess he just needed to let me know who was in charge, if that wasn't already excruciatingly clear. I waited for the day that he would tell me that I would be blowing up the morgue for what seemed like an eternity, but that day never came.

He never kept the door locked, but he didn't really have to. My ankle was attached to a long chain that was attached to the wall. I was able to go into the restroom, and stand in the doorway, but nothing else. I thought I'd lose my mind in that room, but I was eventually set loose.

The door flew open and hit the wall it with a loud "BANG!" Startled awake, I sat up quickly from the mattress and turned towards the noise.

"Wakey, wakey!"

The Joker came in and pulled the desk chair close to me.

"I love what you've done with the place."

I crossed my legs underneath me and sat up straight with my hands in my lap. Normally, his comment would have made me groan or roll my eyes, but I was being particularly careful around him. He was slowly breaking me.

"I've decided that you're going to start working with us. We need to begin…putting everything in motion. First thing you're going to do, is make more of those timers."

He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out the unicorn key chain, then sat forward.

"If you run after I do this, you will die."

I nodded and extended my leg towards him. He placed my ankle up on his knee and turned the lock around to remove the cuff. It loudly fell to the ground, and I pulled back. He latched on and held tight.

"I. Will. Shoot you."

I whispered, "Okay."

And he let go.

"Get up, let's go."

I stood and followed him out the door and down to the first floor. Before sitting down at the long table, he dumped a box full of materials out on the top.

"Get to work."

I sat down and began to organize the materials into piles. On the other side of the table, he pulled out his notebook and began to write. Every so often, he would hurriedly scribble something out and continue on.

I used a piece of scrap metal to start breaking apart the kitchen timer pile. Pieces of plastic flew in every direction, but it didn't seem to bother him.

"So why are you in Gotham?"

The break in silence made me jump. I wasn't expecting small talk from him.

Why was I in Gotham?

"I-I..um," I stammered. "Went to college here, and just never left."

I thought for a moment.

"How did you know I wasn't from here?"

"You've got an accent. Midwestern?"

"Yes."

I'm the one with the accent?

"So, college grad, how did you end up working for Herman?"

"Accident," I said as another chunk of debris went flying.

"How do you accidentally get involved with the mob?" He asked, amused.

I put down the timer and scrap metal.

"You accidentally show a mob boss you're useful, by building and using a device that was only meant to protect you on the streets. Then, he bribes you with enough money to pay your tuition."

"Tragic."

I think he meant it sarcastically, but I still can't tell sometimes.

The piece of scrap lodged underneath another timer face and pried it up. Once I had enough to work with, I fashioned together the first device I'd built in weeks. It felt almost normal. I formed a piece of thin metal into a pulling ring and pushed it into the side. He reached and plucked it from the table.

"Let's test it."

Just as he finished saying it, the door to the building opened, and the sounds of a struggle ensued. The clowns pushed and pulled a man that was bound, gagged, and blindfolded into the center of the room and threw him to the floor. The Joker walked over to the man and removed the blindfold. As soon as his face was revealed, the man began to squirm and fight harder. I turned away, but was soon corrected.

"I want you to watch this," he said as he wrapped his fingers underneath my chin.

He picked up a roll of duct tape from the table, wearing it as a bracelet, and walked back over to the man.

"Ted. Ted, Ted, Ted. Why are you trying to pull a fast one on me?"

Ted grunted through his oral restraint and shook his head.

"No? Well then how did you get ahold of a big bag of money and product?"

The masked men threw a bag forward and the Joker zipped it open, spilling the mentioned items onto the floor. He pushed everything around until he found what he was searching for, and held up a wallet. The wallet was shook open to display Ted's driver's license. After shaking it in his face, the Joker pulled off the man's gag.

"Please! I won't do it again!"

"You're right, you won't."

He pulled the ring on the device, turned the two halves, and shoved it into the man's mouth. He then removed the roll of tape from his wrist and wrapped it around Ted's head. Everyone took a step back from the bomb and waited for it to go off. I stood and began to race for the stairs.

"Oooh, no, no."

He reached for me and held one of my arms behind my back while planting the other on my forehead and pulled.

"You're gonna watch, just like the rest of us."

My free arm made a fist and tried to beat against his thigh and hip. He pulled harder, my shoulder popped.

"Do it again, and I break it," he muttered in my ear.

Ted rolled around on the ground screaming, trying to remove the tape.

"I don't want to see this!" I cried out.

"This is, the result of your work."

I tried to fight against him. My hand now gripped his pant leg in anticipation.

The timer went off after two minutes, and Ted's head exploded.


	4. Chapter 4

I'd nearly broken the front door off of its hinges after barreling through it to get to the outside. I was bent over behind the van, puking my guts out. My lungs took in exasperated breaths in between heaves. Ted's splattered tissues had spotted the toes of my sneakers and pant legs, which had triggered yet another episode. Once I had finished, I leaned against the van and looked out into the night. It was pitch black except for the light next to the door and the heat lightening piercing the sky in the distance.

The front door to the building opened and shut, and a burst of laughter from the group erupted from inside before dissipating completely. I didn't look to see who it was. Afraid that it would be the Joker, I tensed up my shoulders and stared at the ground.

"Hey," the approaching voice said.

It wasn't him. I looked up and saw one of the clowns approaching, mask-less. I didn't return his greeting, instead I nodded in his direction. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He plopped one in his mouth and reached the pack out towards me.

"Want one?"

I wasn't normally one for smoking, but certain occasions necessitated exceptions. And this was a certain occasion. I reached out and plucked one from the pack.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

He reached up and lit it for me. Afterwards lighting his own and taking a slow inhale.

"Name's Ben," he said as he exhaled.

"Kay."

I crossed my arms in front of me and flicked ashes from the cigarette into the puke pile.

"Didn't you used to work for GPD or somethin'? Shouldn't you be used to seeing shit like that?"

I shook my head, "I worked for the morgue in downtown Gotham. By the time we'd received the bodies, the suffering was over."

"But you _did_ blow people up for that guy, uh, Herman?"

I kept my gaze pointed at the ground.

"Herman always told me to keep my distance. I was never present during the detonations."

"Sounds like he was protecting you."

I blinked away tears.

"Guess you could say that."

He turned towards me as another cloud of smoke spilled from his mouth.

"Whaddya think of this guy? The Joker?"

"I think he's a nihilistic psycho."

Ben laughed.

"We all thought you guys were…you know…"

I looked at him, confused for a moment, but then realized what he was getting at. A snort erupted from my throat.

"No, I'm not sleeping with the boss."

"Oh, that's usually the reason these guys bring women in. No offense."

"Shame that one of us women would have a convenient skill set, huh?"

I took offense, and my tongue dripped with sarcasm.

"Besides, I never slept with Herman either."

"No? I thought that maybe that was how you'd survived this long."

_Asshole_.

I flicked the cigarette into the gravel and stormed back into the building.

_I hate these people_.

They had drug Ted's body out the back door, creating a long trail of blood and brain matter along the way. He was no longer on the main floor. The remaining men were rowdy and yelling about what had just taken place. They mimicked the noises of the eruption while simultaneously mocking his cries. The Joker had recruited people whose morals were in line with his own. Made sense, I guess.

I picked up a bottle of water from the refrigerator in the kitchen so I could get the taste of tobacco and vomit out of my mouth before going upstairs. As I rounded the corner to get to the second set of stairs I looked at the black door that stood next to mine for any sign that _he_ was in the room. The lights peeked out from underneath the closed door. I made my footsteps as light as I could as I passed by, and closed my own door softly. I laid down on the thin mattress and nearly instantly fell asleep.

* * *

Just like every other night, my sleep was interrupted. It felt like it had been centuries since the last time I was able to sleep through the night. It was making me more paranoid, more irritable, and more fragile. And he was doing it on purpose.

The door was kicked open. I groaned and beat my fists on the mattress.

"Boss wants to see you."

My head lifted and saw a man standing in the doorway. The room was still dark, but I could make out his silhouette.

"Fine," I said angrily.

I rolled over and stood up from the floor. I wanted to scream and beat down the man at the door. As I was passing by, he put his arm up to block me from leaving. He looked down at me and bit his lip before bending forward and smelling my hair.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Just helping along my imagination."

I made an ugly scowl and pushed his arm out of the way. His boots stomped on the floor behind me and followed me next door. I knocked and waited.

"Come in," a voice said playfully.

The Joker was sitting at his disheveled desk with a laptop in front of him that cast a blue hue over his caked on face. He poked at the keyboard with his index fingers. The door shut behind me; I sat in the chair and waited for him to acknowledge my presence. I took my cues from the clowns when I could get them, and I would never rush him.

Eventually, he would push the computer out of the way and look at me with his black, soul-less eyes from the other side of the desk. His long, purple coat was hung on the chair behind him, exposing his blue-grey suit jacket and dark green vest.

"You look like you need some rest," he jested.

I wanted to be sarcastic. I wanted to swear at him. I _really _wanted to hit him. Instead, I nodded.

"You needed something?"

"No time for small talk, hm? We're going out to meet up with a new…business partner."

He fumbled his tongue across his tongue across his lips.

"You're coming with this time."

"What do you need me to blow up?"

"Nothing at all."

"Then why am I coming with?"

"I need a decoy."

"…decoy for what?"

"Oh, you'll see."

There was a knock at the door and someone poked their head in.

"Boss, there's a-"

"GET THE FUCK OUT!"

He picked up the laptop and threw it at the door. I ducked my head down. I was slowly acclimating to his angry outbursts. He was generally good at keeping his cool. There wasn't many things that I had come to admire about the man, but I did appreciate that he always chose his words carefully. He rarely ever swore, and I believe this is the first occasion that I'd ever heard him do so. I could tell that he was an intelligent man, but it made me wonder what he would be up to if he wasn't committing homicides and theft.

"Where were we? Oh, I can't give away the surprise. Just know, that you're _absolutely_ necessary."

His tone changed back to baseline in an instant. I wasn't about to argue with Jekyll and Hyde.

"Okay."

He licked and reached down into one of the desk drawers. A silver handgun was set down in the middle of the table. He motioned for me to pick it up with his open palm.

"I've um…" I began. "I've never shot a gun before."

He laughed from across the table as if it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

"Nothing to it. Just load it, and aim it. But! Only pull the trigger if you mean it. Pull the trigger as _if _you mean it."

I picked up the gun and held it in my hands.

"We leave in uh," he said as he lifted his wrist to check a watch that wasn't there. "Fifteen minutes. Better go get ready."

I got up from the chair and stepped around the broken laptop on my way out. The man who had been yelled at moments earlier was still standing there. He walked into the room as I'd left. I heard him getting his ass chewed from the other side of the wall as I got dressed.

I put on what I normally would for any job that needed to be completed: black shirt, pants, and boots. My hair was brushed back into a bun that kept my long bangs out of my eyes. I picked up the gun, pressed the safety, and put it into one of the back pockets.

On the main floor, we waited for the Joker to come down the stairs. I noticed that some of the clowns weren't wearing masks this time around. I supposed that some of them weren't afraid of being recognized. They were all loudly chatting amongst themselves about how the evening was supposed to play out. The creepy man who had smelled my hair earlier approached me and stood much closer than I was comfortable with.

"What do you want?" I asked.

He ran his fingertips up my back. I swatted his hand away and moved to the other side of the room.

The room suddenly hushed and collectively watched "the boss" descend. His neck craned forward and seemed to sit lower than his shoulders. His gait was bouncy and loose.

"Gentleman…and lady."

He took a moment to look around the room.

"Tonight is an important night. So. Don't. Screw. It. Up."

He turned his face in my direction.

"Let's go."

Everyone waited for him to lead the way outside and lined up behind him. He waited on the other side of the door and reached out as I passed; pulling the hair tie from my hair and flinging it out into the gravel. My neat bun disassembled and spilled to my shoulders. I wished he would stop touching my hair; who knows what those gloves had touched.

We piled into the van as he jumped into the passenger's seat. He readied his weapons in the front seat, making sure everything was properly sharp and loaded. I sat directly behind him and watched his green curls bob. His hand reached behind his head and snapped at me.

"Gun."

I reached into my back pocket and handed it to him. He pulled an empty magazine from it and replaced it with a full one. I guess I couldn't blame him for not trusting me. It wasn't back in my possession until we stopped at our destination.

There were ten of us in total, not including the driver. Four were told to go into the building with him, two at each of the doors in the front and back of the building, and two on the stairs. As for myself, I was told to go to the rooftop while the gun was handed back to me. I wasn't sure what was waiting up there, and why I needed to distract it, but I already didn't like it.

I psyched myself up while I was on the elevator to the top of the building. I almost didn't get out at all. Once my imagination painted a plethora of unfortunate consequences that might take place if I didn't go, I found the nerve to step out onto the rooftop. There was no one there.

We were nearing the end of July, and the intense heat from the summer was beginning to wear down and caused a chill in the air. A slight breeze was audible and contributed to the eeriness. I looked over the edge of the building and saw the van and the men waiting at the door below me. I thought that maybe the silence was a good thing. I walked back and forth along the edges of the building, patrolling like I thought I should be.

Forty-five minutes came and went without any incident from downstairs or my position. Then, a noise that sounded like a flag flying cut the silence behind me as I neared a corner. I quickly turned and raised my gun.

"Who's there?" I asked shakily.

I didn't move towards the noise, but the noise moved towards me. From behind the roof's access came a large black shadow with pointed ears. Once I'd recognized the figure, a simultaneous wave of anger and fear came over me. I could easily be overpowered in this situation.

_He wanted me to distract Batman?! Seriously? What was he thinking?!_

I kept my gun raised and pointed at the big, intimidating figure.

"Lower the gun," the voice said, harshly.

He sounded like he was trying to growl and yell at the same time. I might have laughed if I hadn't been scared.

"Stay where you are," I said, trying to sound brave.

He kept his eyes fixed on me while he circled around. I matched his steps so I wouldn't be caught in a corner.

"You were trying to run from him a month ago, why are you helping him?"

"I don't have much say in the matter."

"He kidnapped you. People died."

"I'm aware of what happened that day."

He began to step closer. I didn't move.

"I can help you. I just need you to tell me about him."

"You can't do anything. Even _if_ I really knew anything about him, I wouldn't share that with you."

The Joker would end me.

"You're loyal to a man that would throw you under the bus at a moment's notice."

"You obviously don't understand anything about this."

"Do you?"

He stepped forward and I shot a round into the sky above me.

"Don't," I warned. "Don't come any closer."

As we continued to stare each other down, gunfire rang out from inside of the building. I couldn't see what was going on without taking my eyes off of Batman. He turned to leave, and I fired another round, but this time, in his direction. If he interrupted the meeting, bossman was going to be very upset with me. Batman turned his shoulders back towards me and came running at a fast pace. I fired three more times before I was disarmed. I'm not sure that any of the shots connected.

That night, I learned that Batman hits hard, very hard. Before I'd understood what had happened, my gun skidded to the other side of the rooftop while I was knocked off my feet and fell into a daze. He turned to go down the rooftop access.

_Damn it!_

I stood and ran towards him haphazardly. I jumped up and clasped my arms around his chest. He pulled my arms from around him and threw me over his shoulder, causing me to land flat on my back. All of the air was knocked from my lungs and I gasped for a breath that would allow me to respond to the pain.

I tilted my head to the side and narrowed my eyes at him. Before I could make another move, the Joker appeared from behind him and stabbed a knife into Batman's back. He reached to remove the blade from his shoulder. I sat up and saw the Joker kick him over the edge of the building and laugh as he watched the Bat plummet to the streets below.

The Joker turned back towards me.

"Surprise! Let's go!"

He helped me to my feet and I followed him at a sideways jog into the access and to the elevator. My brain felt like it was bouncing around my skull. Once inside the elevator, I leaned up against the wall and caught my breath. He reached over and handed me the gun that was thrown across the roof. I felt as if he wanted to be angry with me about losing the gun, but since I had kept the Bat occupied I was off the hook.

I could hear the screaming and moaning from the van before the door slid open. I'm not sure what happened at their meeting, but it was nothing good. One of them had been shot in the shoulder, while the others walked away with cuts and bruises. As the Joker settled in his seat, he twisted around in his seat to address the noise.

"Shut. Up."

They immediately obliged, including the man who had been shot. You couldn't buy this type of intimidation. Why were they so afraid of him?

I'd looked up at him while he was facing us, and saw that he had been hurt as well. One of his forearms was sliced open and the blood was dripping from his purple glove. He saw that I had noticed and used his fingertips to flick some of it in my direction. It blotted and disappeared into my black pants.

Once we were inside the hideout, the silence continued. No one wanted to talk about what had happened, and the boss seemed unhappy about the events that had unfolded. I walked up the stairs and he trailed behind me.

"If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself," he muttered to himself.

He angrily looked down into the main room as he said this.

"What happened?"

"Doesn't matter."

I shrugged and left it at that.

At the top of the stairs, I heard him let out a frustrated grunt. His arm was beginning to bother him. My bleeding heart stopped me in my tracks and turned towards him.

"Do you want me to suture it?"

I was terrified of him, but I also wanted him to trust me. He looked at me suspiciously. His hand was wrapped around the arm. The blood continued to drip and made audible slaps as it hit the metal grates we stood on.

"_Sure_, doc."

I motioned for him to follow me into the room I occupied and went into the adjoining bathroom.

"Take off your jackets."

He slowly did as I asked as I pulled out a stolen medic's kit that was underneath the sink. I removed a suture kit, gauze, and a syringe with sterile saline inside of it. He sat on the bathroom counter and watched me.

"And here I was thinking that you only worked on dead people."

"I did. Mostly. I worked in the ED at Gotham General as a medical transcriptionist for a while. I learned a few things."

"Ah."

I took his arm in my hand and rested it in my palm while pulling up the sleeve with the other. My hands were already sticky with his blood. I don't think he would have let me touch him if it would have stopped bleeding, as he seemed somewhat apprehensive about the whole ordeal. The cut on his arm was not very long, but it was deep. I patted the wound dry as best as I could with some gauze and began to irrigate it with the syringe. If it was painful, I wouldn't have known; he made no indication.

Once it was clean enough, I jumped up and sat on the top of the bathroom counter next to him. I picked up his arm and rested his hand on my thigh.

"Don't move."

"Mmmhmm."

I poked the suture needle through the top of the cut and began to make my way down. He watched me pull the two sides of his arm together like he was observing birds at the park. His hand gripped my leg as his thumb moved back and forth. I, once again, remained silent and excused it as a reaction to the pain. Denial on my part, but it was added to a laundry list of irritants that had occurred since this most recent chapter of my life. I felt as if the exhaustion and anger would make me explode at any point.

When my work was completed, I wiped over the top of the sutures once more to get rid of any excess blood. I was nearly tempted to make a joke about it leaving a scar, but I thought that it might be a sensitive topic.

He lifted his arm and examined my work.

"Not bad."

He hopped down from the counter, picked up his jackets, and draped them over his non-injured arm. He squeezed my cheek between his thumb and forefinger, leaving a bloody stain on my face, and winked before leaving the room. Moments later, I heard the door to his office shut.

_You're welcome_.

I tossed the used and bloodied supplies into the trash and washed my face and hands. I felt my back begin to ache as I bent over the sink.


	5. Chapter 5

Overnight, a small miracle happened. I was left alone the entirety of the night, which should have meant that I was finally able to get some sleep. Instead, I tossed and turned on top of the thin, pliable mattress. My thoughts wouldn't stop buzzing around my head, and the dreams that I'd experienced were intense and unforgiving. In them, there was an amalgamation of the various deaths I'd witnessed. I sat behind Herman and witnessed his death from the perspective of the doorman as the Joker aimed the gun towards his head. He yet again pulled the trigger and my vision was blurred by blood and tissue. Through the hole in Herman's head, I saw the Joker's twisted smile and his hand motioning me towards him.

I sat up in bed and ran my fingers through my hair and distributed my sweat in the strands. The room was unbearably warm. I got up and went into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. I remained sitting on the bathroom counter until the small slivers of sunlight that signaled the morning broke through the cracks of the wooden barricades on the window.

I shuffled myself out onto the catwalk and looked over the railing. There was no one there. I didn't hear anything coming from the boss's office, so I had assumed that the little psycho had finally tuckered himself out. The metal stairs made no noise as I climbed down; I kept every footstep as careful and as light as I possibly could. I feared that any commotion would stir him from this office. I took the last step and turned myself into the kitchen.

The kitchen in the building was messy, but not disgusting. And even more surprising was that someone actually bought a few things to keep in the cupboards. Or maybe they stole it- which would have been the most likely of scenarios. The thought of the Joker roaming the aisles of a grocery store and pushing a shopping cart was amusing though.

Since this was one of the only silent early morning moments I was able to enjoy by my lonesome, I figured I would enjoy it while it lasted. I brewed some coffee and made a piece of toast. I sat down on one of the metal chairs that surrounded a wobbly card table in the center of the room and inhaled the steam from the coffee. It had been so long since I'd hand any, and the aroma was the greatest small joy in recent memory. I didn't even care that it singed my lips and throat on its way down.

But, the good feeling was gone almost as quickly as it began. Loud, obnoxious steps clonked down the metal stairs. From the corridor, I saw the Joker swing himself around the railing. I tangled my fingers together and rested my forehead against my thumbs in annoyance.

_Is one hour too much to ask for?_

"Morning," he mused.

"It suuuure is."

He sat down at the table next to me and threw down a newspaper that he'd been holding under his arm onto the table.

"Great picture of you on the front page."

His eyes moved back and forth between me and the paper, waiting expectantly. I sighed and picked it up. He was giddy and excited for me to see something that would make me squirm.

_He's gotta be on drugs. No one is this energetic._

Once I'd unfolded the paper, I saw a picture of myself in a lab coat. It was the photo that the morgue had taken of me when I started working there. I was jealous of the version of me in the photo that still smiled and didn't feel like hell.

_LOCAL WOMAN STILL MISSING AFTER KIDNAPPING_

I quickly skimmed through the article, and saw towards the end that the reporters had gotten in touch with my parents. Apparently, they weren't even aware that I was missing until the paper had reached out to them. I really should have called them when this whole stupid thing began, but I didn't want them to worry. And what was I supposed to tell them?

"_Mmph_, the police are hard at work keeping up the illusion that they're still looking for you."

He had picked up my breakfast and was chewing with one side of his mouth as he spoke. I knew that he was only trying to upset me, but it really did make me wonder. How long before they gave up? He set the toast back down on the paper towel and licked at his teeth.

The article mentioned that they were searching at the bottom of Gotham river and using remnants from my apartment so the cadaver dogs could catch my scent.

"They already think I'm dead."

_Poor Mom_.

I set the newspaper down and reached for the coffee cup. Once I lifted it to my lips to take a sip, he took the cup from my hands and threw it across the room, causing it to shatter against the wall. My eyes glazed over and looked at him. He wasn't even angry; he still had the same smirk on his face. The need to cause a reaction was his addiction.

"And how _upsetting_ that they called your folks."

I scoffed, "I guess."

He wasn't going to win this battle. Outwardly, I was stoic. Inwardly, I was screaming and stomping my feet like a toddler.

He side eyed me before leaning in closer.

"I know you think that the tough act is convincing; it's not."

"You don't know me as well as you think you do."

_Yes, yes, he does._

I've thus far mentioned some characteristics of the Joker that make him the most terrifying person I know. However, the most unnerving of the bunch is his ability to read people and predict what they'll do based on that knowledge. He knows you without knowing you.

His gloveless hand pushed the hair away from my eyes, and I smacked it away from my face.

"What do you want from me?" I asked. "You're obviously already aware that I don't want to be here. Is it that important to you to add insult to injury?"

He bounced as he laughed in his chair, "Ooh, don't be that way. I'm just trying to make polite conversation."

"We both know that's not true. But, regardless, I'm here against my will, not to get to know you."

"You should get to know me though. I'm a pretty fun guy."

"I've seen how fun you are," I said in the coldest tone I could manage.

I pushed the chair back and left through the kitchen entranceway. He looked up at me from his seat and slowly turned his head to match my movement away from him. In an act of retaliation, he moved out of the chair he was sitting in, picked it up, and swung it around. It made a b-line to my back, making a loud _clang_ as it connected. I fell forward and landed face first onto the floor.

_Don't cry. Don't fucking cry._

I shifted my elbows underneath me and pushed away from the cold concrete. To the side, I heard the chair break as it was thrown against the concrete wall, tearing one of the maps of the city. He pushed me back down with his foot. I felt the air withdraw from my lungs and leave my mouth as a heavy wheeze. My vertebrae cracked in succession down to my tail bone. I remained still and silently suffering; hoping that his foot would stomp on the back of my neck and kill me. Instead, he lifted his foot and crouched down, placing one knee on the ground next to my head. I turned so I could watch him from the corner of my eye. He tilted his head; his curling green tresses hung away from his face.

He reached down and once again moved the hair out of my eyes. This time, I didn't dare slap his hand away. I felt his fingers run forward along my scalp as he bent forward at the waist. His forehead rested against my temple.

"Stop pretending. For the both of us."

My commitment to stoicism was sustaining his commitment to fucking with me. He wanted so badly for me to lash out at him.

"I know you'll break. You bleeding heart types always do."

I rested my cheek against the cold, dusty floor and closed my eyes. My empathetic nature was a weakness in his eyes, and he was looking to suck it out of me.

"Why do you want it so bad?" I asked.

"Rules are for people who still believe in something. You still believe that there are virtuous people out there, and that they are deserving of mercy. I told you that I would make you understand, didn't I?"

"Yes."

And he left it at that, standing slowly and walking back upstairs. I remained still on the floor and allowed the room's stale oxygen to flow back into my lungs. I couldn't take many more of these interactions with him; I thought that maybe it would have played out better for me if I'd just acted like I'd left the old me behind. But then, I also believe that he would have known that it was all for show.

* * *

That evening, once the sun began to set, the main entrance flew open and the clowns walked in. They had left the building the previous evening and no one had told me about any plans, so I hadn't been sure where they were. I emerged from my hiding place in the kitchen, and watched them enter with large black duffel bags that they placed on the table in the main room. Some unzipped the bags while the rest of them went back outside for more. I walked towards the table and picked up an assault rifle, holding it in both hands.

"Where did all of this come from?"

Another bag slammed onto the table.

"Boss had us hit up a couple sporting good's stores on the other side of the river. Said we needed to stock up," Ben said.

_He's planning something big._

From above, the Joker's big goofy steps clanged on the catwalk and down to us. He approached the table looking like a kid on Christmas, the smile on his face grew wider as he shuffled through the bags. He picked up a handgun and loaded it with rounds that he found in a different bag. He gripped the top of the gun and pulled it back to load one into the chamber. The gun was pointed lazily in front of him and a loud succession of _ratatats_ echoed. The man standing on the opposite side of the table violently shook with each collected bullet and collapsed to the ground where he seized movement.

I set the rifle back down on the table and stared, horrified. The Joker pulled the gun closer towards his face to examine it closer.

"I _like_ this one."

The others pushed the body to the side like their associate hadn't just been murdered. The Joker tucked the gun into the back of his pants and moved towards the head of the table, looking pleased with himself as he watched his clown cult unpack the bags. I stood at the other end and watched him marvel in his new acquisitions.

"Why don't we all have a seat?" He said, finally.

We all sat around the table as the loyal dogs we were and awaited further instruction. I sat in front of a thick, wooden baseball bat that had black tape wrapped around the handle. The creepy man that had smelled my hair sat down next to me.

"Within the next year, this town is going to be mine. The established order will break down, and in the midst of the chaos I will be the last one standing."

"How're we gonna pull that off?" Asked one of the men.

"By listening to. Every. Word. I have to say. Follow my plan. Now, there will be sacrifices, but it's all a means to an end."

I spaced out what he said next, and felt the fingertips of the creepy man glide up my thigh. I scooted further away without disturbing the man on the other side of me, but the unwanted physical contact continued. I picked up the creepy man's hand and moved it back towards him. My face felt hot, and my mouth twisted in a frustrated scowl. He felt safe and secure harassing me now, because no one would dare to interrupt the boss for anything, not even to ask for someone to stop harassing them.

I did attempt to listen and pay attention to the Joker's monologue, but my mind began to wander - playing back every nasty incident that had happened to me since my first interaction with the Joker. Before that, since I'd first arrived in Gotham. At one point, I looked at the boss and saw his face flicker back and forth between his own and Herman's. Herman's face was speaking to the room while trying on the Joker's tobacco tarnished vocals and wearing his purple and green suit.

I thought about the day I'd met Herman. It was a Saturday night, and the club he owned was full of my peers. My friends had dragged me there after a bad break up to help me get out of the funk I was in, and maybe get under someone else. We drank and danced all night. Herman was standing at the bar and bought me a couple of drinks. His fingers did their best to examine my curves in the dress I was wearing. The night ended with me running from him, and I'd thrown a (mostly) harmless version of the timer bomb at him to get away. He used the club's security cameras to find out who I was.

It was in that moment, while I sat at the table next to the creep, that I'd had en epiphany: Herman wasn't the gracious man I'd often described him as – he took away more than he gave. He and the Joker were one and the same with varying degrees of cunning and lunacy.

I remembered that I'd had a future, I had great paying jobs lined up after college and he had somehow convinced me to give that up. I had busted my ass in school for absolutely nothing and I threw everything away for these terrible people. If it weren't for Herman, I'd be working in a nice office building wearing tight skirts and heels and making bank. Instead, I was a play thing for a sociopath in makeup.

_Fuck Herman. Fuck all of these people._

I saw red. I picked up the baseball bat and swung it at the creepy man's head. He fell backwards out of the chair and rolled on the floor holding his face. I brought the bat down again, and again, and again; screaming nonsensical shrieks of anger and hatred as I went. A bloody mess splattered all over the floor and my clothes. Once his face was a jumble of crimson, black, and blue, I grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him close to my face.

"IF YOU _EVER_ FUCKING TOUCH ME AGAIN, I WILL TEAR OFF YOUR DICK AND SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR THROAT!"

I threw him back down to the floor and angrily treaded towards the door, dragging the bat behind me. Outside, I threw the furious tantrum that I'd wanted to throw since I got there. The Joker was right, I _was_ breaking, and I was _so_ ready for it. It was almost as if he had given me the permission I'd necessitated to do so. The accumulation of the last few years had taken its toll, and he had been the tipping point.

I screamed incoherently as I hit every breakable object that crossed my path with the baseball bat, which was beginning to crack and splinter.

"I HATE THIS FUCKING PLACE!"

This continued until my arms could no longer swing, and I was a sobbing mess soaked in the creepy man's blood and my own sweat. I leaned myself against the building and stared at my blood-caked shoes. My body was on fire, and my mind was racing from the adrenaline. I had _never_ attacked someone before, not up close and personal. It felt so dangerously primal.

The door swung open and out strolled the Joker. I pushed myself off of the wall and stood in front of him with the bat, ready for a fight. He looked me up and down with a stern look on his face.

"Feel better?"

"No…no I don't feel _better_. I am _exhausted_, and I am _angry_."

He licked his lips and tucked his hair behind his ear.

"I told you," he said as he smiled. "It's only a matter of time before your ill-conceived notions of innocent vs. guilty start to wear down."

I pointed the bat in the direction of the building.

"That asshole is definitely guilty, and he deserved the beating he received. And then some."

I lowered the bat, the tears were falling down my face in full force. I didn't care if he saw anymore.

"Was that what you wanted from all of this bullshit?" I yelled.

"What I wanted, was to provide you with a change of perspective. Herman planted the seeds, and I tended to them."

I wiped my face with the back of my hand and threw down the bat.

"Fine, you win. You. _Win_." I seethed. "But I'm done. You're nothing but a psycho in a shitty Halloween costume."

His eyes narrowed and his mouth began to pull together. He was getting angry.

"Except, you don't get to decide when you're done. You. Belong. To me."

"Fuck. You."

Those two words, regardless of the consequences that followed, felt so good to say to his face. And I couldn't take them back.

I turned to walk away, and he started to cackle.

"Oh, we're just going to walk away?"

I didn't respond, I only went further into the darkness. I didn't have a plan, I was only acting out of anger. A powerful _ratatat_ erupted from behind me, and the surrounding dirt flew up into the air. I stopped on a dime and covered my head with my hands. I turned back to look at him as the dust settled; he was still pointing the gun in my direction.

"Get back here."

My arms lowered to my sides, my body froze, and all I could do was stare at him, dumbfounded.

"Now."

I crept forward and as I came closer he tucked the gun back into his pants. Once I was about three feet away, I stopped and stared at the ground in front of him. There was absolute silence.

His hand suddenly wrapped around my neck and pushed me to the wall of the building. I choked and gasped for air. His expression fixated into an unpleasant grimace that barred his teeth. He looked deep into my eyes as I struggled for life. My hands reached out and pushed against his chest and face. My fingernails clawed at the firm scars on his face, causing some of the red lipstick to catch underneath. Slowly, blackness began to envelop the corners of my vision and slowly move inwards. What took only a small fraction of time felt like an eternity.

Just as I began to ease myself into the comfort of death, he let go. I dropped into the dirt, gasped, and passed out.


	6. Chapter 6

I came to as a thick cloud of smoke wavered overhead. I blinked rapidly to gain my vision, and once it had returned every other sensation came with it. My throat still felt his tight grip, and my head pounded. A loud splash and a familiar smell – one I couldn't put my finger on, wafted into my nostrils. Another puff of smoke followed by a fit of barking coughs came from the other side of the room.

My arms would not come free from behind my back, and my body began to panic. I shimmied my shoulders back and forth to try to get free. My legs kicked around on top of the mattress. More splashes, and the nauseating liquid soaked into my clothes and hair. I rolled over to get a better look. At the foot of the bed was Ben holding a gas can; the Joker was sitting at his desk behind my head.

"Oh my god. What are you doing?"

The boss jolted up from his desk excitedly.

"You're awake! Glad you could join us!" He exclaimed as he strode around his desk.

He pointed at Ben and motioned for him to continue to douse me.

"Stop! Holy shit, stop!"

Ben didn't say a word, he only continued what he was instructed to do. The Joker sucked on a cigarette and came closer, ashing onto the now soaked mattress.

"Is this making you nervous?" He asked. "It _should_ make you nervous."

"You lectured me twice, and you choked me out. I get it!"

"See," he said as he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth. "I'm not so sure you do."

I was beginning to feel lightheaded from the fumes.

"I'm losing my patience, Kay," he said in a warning tone. "I've asked so little of you, and you're making things difficult."

I threw my head back. If he was going to light me on fire, I didn't want to see it about to happen.

"I have done everything you've asked," I gasped.

"I don't recall asking you to beat my men."

"He was-"

"_Ahh tah tah_," he interrupted. "Did I ask you to?"

"No."

"Now we're getting somewhere. All actions have consequences Kay. These are _your_ consequences. I can't have you disrespecting me and trying to walk away. Sends a bad message to the boys. No, we need to make an example of you."

"Please don't."

I lifted my head towards him and watched as he examined the end of the lit cigarette. He slowly lowered the cigarette to the gasoline drenched bed.

"NOOOOOO!" I screamed.

I writhed around in terror as I sobbed and wailed.

He giggled, "What? Don't?"

He lifted the cigarette back up.

"No," I quietly sobbed. "Don't."

"But how will I be sure you'll behave?"

The cigarette lowered again.

"I'll behave! For fucks sake, I'll behave! Just don't light me on fire, oh my god!"

He smiled and began to puff calmly.

"Last chance."

I nodded, "Last chance."

His game could not be won. It had no rules, but it had all the rules. All you could do was try to survive it, but in order to do so, you had to think like him. The more time you spent near him, you began to understand how he thinks. But you had to live long enough to spend more time near him.

Ben untied my hands. Once I was freed, I sprung up from the mattress and ran to the room next door. I hurriedly turned both of the knobs on the shower and stepped inside fully clothed. The scent of the gas mixed with the steam of the shower. I crouched down until I was sitting in the bottom of the shower with my legs stretched in front of me and let the water run through my hair. My head slumped forward and I rested my chin on my chest.

The shower curtain slid open suddenly.

"It wasn't anything personal," Ben said. "Gotta do what he says, you know?"

I remained silent and tried to focus on the hot water flowing over my shoulders.

"Kay."

"What Ben?"

"He wasn't really going to do it. Set you on fire, I mean. He just wanted to scare you."

I shook my head and put my face in my hands.

_He would have done it. I don't know why he didn't, but he would have._

"Go away, Ben."

"Kay-"

"Get. The hell. Away from me."

He slid the shower curtain back closed and began to leave the room.

"We've got a job tonight. Leaving in a half hour."

I closed my hands into fists and pounded them against my thighs.

"Fine."

The door to the main room closed. I reached to shut off the water and I sat in the soaking mess of water and gasoline. I stripped in the shower and let my clothes sit in the liquid. After drying off, I changed into fresh black clothing, picked up my gun and a few small explosives to pack into my pockets, and went downstairs. The whole room watched me come down off of the stairs. They were waiting for me to arrive so we could leave. The Joker had his back against the front door and watched with the rest of the clowns. His was the only stare that burned.

I kept my head down while I walked through the door and to the van. I was pulled aside by my shirt and taken out of the line up to get inside.

"Behind me," the Joker said.

I nodded and waited for everyone else to fill the van while he kept a tight fist on my shirt. Eventually, he let go and took his place in the passenger's seat. We took another long trip to the center of the city, and the van stopped in front of one of the tallest buildings in the vicinity. He got out, slung a black bag over his shoulder, and opened the sliding door beside me.

"Let's go."

We made the lengthy trip up the stairs, and we were both sweating by the time we'd reached the top floor. I was longing for the winter and a break from the heat and humidity. He turned back to me, the black was dripping from his eyes and leaking into the white.

"I used your morgue plans for another project. Assumed you wouldn't mind. Consider this a sampling of your work. Better hope it works."

I remained silent and focused on trudging up the stairs. He opened the door to access the roof of the building and walked over to the edge. A gust of wind blew his stench back towards me and cooled my skin – both disgusting and relieving. I hung back by the door and watched him give the city a once-over. He then dropped the bag and unzipped it.

"Weeeeell?

I shook myself out of my stupor and went to him. He produced a detonator from the bag and handed it to me.

"When the moment is right," he said.

I looked at him, then the city in front of me.

"Which one?"

He stood and placed a hand behind my upper arm to guide me towards the edge of the building, being surprisingly gentle. His head lowered next to mine as he pointed out towards the skyline.

"That one. Blue lights."

I felt the heat of his breath on the side of my face.

"The rest of 'em are putting everything in place. We're just going to wait until that's finished."

"Okay. Um…what are we accomplishing here?"

He turned his head towards me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Well, that particular…," he said while his hand erratically pointed in the direction of the blue lights. "…building. Is Falcone's. You see, he wasn't very receptive when I'd offered my services. I'm just…sending a message."

"…I see."

_Carmine is going to kill me._

I pulled away from him and leaned forward against the half wall surrounding the edge of the building to admire the view. The lights in the city were beautiful, as long as I didn't look down. The height of the building was dizzying. The Joker stood next to me, facing away from the skyline. There was a long awkward silence sitting between us. Awkward for me, maybe. I don't suspect that he's ever felt awkward about anything.

"Suddenly at a loss for words?" he said.

"I'm not sure what to say."

I saw him eyeball me from his peripherals.

"Y'know, I don't want there to be any hard feelings between us. Just can't let the boys think you're getting any special treatment."

"Ben had asked if you and I were sleeping together. And now, you've almost killed me twice in, I think, 24 hours. I'm sure you've done worlds over to change their minds."

He turned and propped himself up on the wall with an elbow.

"Maybe we should live up to expectations?"

His tongue poked around at the corners of his mouth and looked me up and down while he waited for an answer.

"No. We shouldn't."

"Is it the suit?" He asked as he pulled one side of his long coat open.

"No," I laughed lightly.

The scars on his face turned upwards; he looked pleased about making me laugh. I dropped my smile almost instantly and cleared my throat. He was attempting to manipulate by charming me, like I'd forget about his fingers closing around my neck or the threat of being burned to death. I went back to admiring the city.

In the distance, I heard police sirens screeching and saw a large amount of smoke coming from the direction of Wayne manor. All of the bridges connecting the two sides of the city began to rise.

"What the hell is happening out there?"

The Joker turned his attention to what I was looking at. His eyebrows furrowed into a look of confusion.

"Don't know," he said as he gazed upwards. "Whatever it is has the Bat occupied."

The Bat's symbol was up in the sky. He pulled at a chain that was attached to his jacket and produced a watch.

"We're on."

We both turned back towards the building, and I reached to hand the detonator over to him.

"You can have the honors," he said.

I nodded and held the safety button on the side of the detonator down before moving my thumb over the larger one that would set the building off. My thumb pressed down, and I held my breath while I waited for the building to come down. Just as the charges went off, the city down below us began to erupt simultaneously. The man hole covers blew upwards, and underneath shot clouds of green and white smoke. Almost immediately, screaming could be heard from all corners of the city.

I dropped the detonator, stepped away front the ledge, and looked over to check the Joker's reaction. He seemed perturbed, and it made me uneasy because it meant that he had no idea what was happening or what our next steps would be. He pulled the bag back over his shoulder.

"Ride should be here soon."

We quickly went back down the stairs. As we got closer to the first floor, the screaming became more and more audible. From the inside of the building, we could see people outside on the ground scratching at their eyes and attacking one another.

"Did you - ?" I began.

He shook his head slowly. This wasn't him.

"Stay here."

He handed me the bag from his shoulder and he opened the large double doors to the building. He stood on the sidewalk and looked back and forth on the street. A screaming man approached him swinging, he pushed the man onto the ground and stepped away. His attention was focused on the manhole in front of him that was spewing out billowing mist. Nearly instantly For a moment, he covered his face with his forearm and began to cough. I thought he would start to scream like everyone else, but instead, he doubled over.

"Shit."

I tripped over myself trying to get to the double doors so I could get a closer look at him. His shoulders and chest heaved up and down. He crouched down and placed one purple hand on the ground in front of him.

_If he's dying, should I just let him? I could go home like I wanted._

My conscience screamed inside of my head and I opened the door to grab his arm and pulled him back inside. The long coat allowed him to easily slide across the tiles in the entrance way of the building. He laid on his back in front of me with his hands covering his face. Underneath, I could see that his mouth was wide open as it expelled choking gasps.

"Hey," I said as I tried to pull his hands away. "What happened?"

I realized soon afterwards that he was laughing. But instead of the quick giggles and titters that he usually let out, it was never ending and guttural. His eyes widened at me like he was seeing the devil.

"What's so funny?" I asked shakily.

He curled up into a ball with his arms wrapped around his torso and continued to laugh hysterically. I checked outside to see if there was any sign of the van showing up. Instead, there was light green clouds of fog moving in from each end of the street. His laughter was beginning to look painful.

"What the hell do I do?"

We could have stayed in the building and waited out the attack, but I couldn't risk being found by police, or Batman, or any other parties that would be interested in a vulnerable Joker. Instead, I decided that I was going to grab the boss and try to find transportation back to the hideout. There was no connecting bridge, so we'd still be able to get there.

"I'm- I'm going to pull you up. I don't know if you can understand me, but- holy shit this sucks."

I bent down and pulled him up, placing one of his arms around my shoulders. It was like trying to hold onto a very heavy six-foot-something toddler that was throwing a fit. The laughter was loud and obnoxious in my ear. I grabbed the bag with my other arm and pushed the door open. Once outside, there was a sulfur-like scent in the air that choked me almost immediately. I covered my mouth with my arm and began to choke on the air. We made it to the middle of the street before I had to drop him and myself down to the ground. I planted both of my hands in front of me on the asphalt to stop my fall. My vision shook and flashed; I felt dizzy and disoriented. The laughter beside me began to sound like far away echos that were being shouted into a long hallway. I heard my own gasps echo and felt saliva pouring from my mouth while I suffocated on the air around me.

I looked over at the Joker and screamed. His face was melting away from his skull and dropping onto the pavement. From his mouth, there was oozing blood and pus. His suit changed from its typical dark purple to a neon lavender. He laughed, and I screamed in horror. We were surrounded by more grotesque figures that shrieked and bled.

From behind the Joker, two very bright white lights appeared in the distance and began to approach us in the middle of the street. The lights avoided the boss sitting on the road and came to a stop near to us. Two very large figures with faces that looked similar to the heads of flies got out and approached. I continued to scream and attempted to get away. The large figures grabbed the laughing, melting clown and took him away. They picked me up off of the ground and carried me towards the bright white lights and laid me on my back. I covered my eyes with my hands and looked away from the liquefying face sitting next to me.

The sounds of screaming and hysterical laughter mended together in an enclosed space. Near my feet, I could see what I believed were streetlights quickly passing by in succession. It was like a bad fever dream where everything occurred in stop motion and echoes. I turned my head and saw one of the fly-people looking back at me. I could hear a voice, but I couldn't understand what it was saying over the non-stop cackling and my own screams. I leaned back and felt the Joker's leg rub up against the back of my head. The contact caught his attention, and he leaned down and wrapped his hands and fingers around my face while we both continued to howl.

I thought that the dripping face would dribble onto mine, but I didn't feel anything. I reached up and mimicked the hold that he had around my head. My thumbs kneaded the scars on either side of his face, and I understood what he was doing. The dripping sucked back up into its original place and turned back into its typical form. He was trying to ground himself to stop the hallucinations; his laughter was beginning to slow. I lowered my hands to my chest and grew silent.

The moving lights stopped and there was darkness around us. The fly-people opened what I now recognized to be the van door, and helped the boss and I out. Things were still looking like stop motion and voices remained echoes, but the Joker's face had gone back to (what was considered) normal and the fly-people were actually the men wearing gas masks.

We sat down at the long table in the middle of the main room of the hideout. I leaned forward and rested my head on the table. Ben set a bottle of water next to me.

"Kay," he said as he snapped my fingers in my face. "You alright?"

His voice sounded distant and slow, but I could finally understand what he was saying.

"What happened to us?" I asked hazily.

"I'm not sure. Some sort of gas poisoning I think."

I rubbed my eyes and began to quickly chug down the water. I turned my head to look at the Joker. He was quiet and still, and looked as if he had just come out of a year long sedation. I offered him the water bottle, he took it from my hand and half-drank while the rest of the water spilled from his mouth and onto his suit.

* * *

It took days for the full effect of the gas to wear off, but it came with a break from the insanity of the last few weeks. The Joker spent the majority of his time recovering in the office. Every so often, you'd hear the odd sound of him loudly speaking to himself or something breaking.

The city surrounding us was still recovering from what had happened. We watched the news from the small CRT on the kitchen counter. It named Jonathan Crane as the leader of an attack on Gotham. Crane, and something he had invented called Fear Toxin. Whatever it was, it was a weapon that could allow some very terrible people to do some very terrible things. Maybe even worse than what the Joker was capable of.

I was shocked to hear Jonathan named as the man who had nearly scared (or laughed) us to death. I had met Crane in my senior year. He was a very smart man, but he was also a very handsome man. I had fantasized about his bright blue eyes for nearly a month after meeting him for the very first time. We had dinner once and discussed his work. He made a speech before our graduating class walked to get our diplomas. I remember gawking and hoping that our paths would cross and we would collaborate on a project. Now the thought of being in the same vicinity made me sick to my stomach.

Ben, myself, and a few of the other men sat around the card table in the kitchen when a loud crash emitted from the adjacent room. From the corridor we could see that it was the Joker's desk. He'd thrown it over the railing.

"Should someone go up and check on him?" One of them asked.

I stepped around the cracked wooden splinters and looked up in time to see the office door slam shut. He hadn't been hydrating and socializing during this time like myself and the other affected men, he was sitting up there alone.

"Probably," I said.

They all stood and stared at me.

"I'm not doing it."

"C'mon Kay, he likes you," said Ben.

"Hahahah! What? He's been beating on me this whole time!"

"Yeah, but he hasn't killed you. I've seen him slit throats for less than what you've done."

"Oh, shut up. One of you jerks can get maimed for once. Leave me out of it."

I sat back down at the card table and crossed my arms in front of me. Ben followed and sat across from me. He pulled a wad of money from his back pocket and tapped it on the table. I hadn't had money in months. The idea of buying myself new clothes or a pint of ice cream was tempting on its own. I stared at the money and bit my lip.

"No," I said.

He reached into another pocket and pulled out another wad.

"Final offer."

I quickly snatched up the cash and stuffed it into my pocket. I stood from the table and took a few water bottles from the refrigerator.

"If he hurts me," I said, pointing at Ben. "I hurt you."

He nodded and put his hands up in the air as I walked past him. The metal staircase creaked underneath my soft footsteps. It seemed to stretch up into eternity. I blinked the shakiness from my eyes and hurried up to the second floor. I hesitated for several moments before sheepishly knocking on the door.

"B-Boss? It's Kay….can I come in?"

There was silence on the other side.

"Boss? I'm coming in."

My sweaty palm gripped the door handle and turned it slowly. It squeaked open and a billow of cigarette smoke blew into my face. I clamped my mouth with my arm and choked back coughs. The room was dark with the exception of the dim lamp lying on the floor against the back wall. It flickered and clicked, manifesting ominous shadows. I heard a voice grumbling and arguing with itself.

The Joker was sitting with his back to the door, rocking back and forth and muttering. Next to him was a pile of snuffed out butts. I approached and crouched down to speak to him. He looked terrible. There was very little makeup left on his face, and sweat dripped from every pore. His vest and shirt were open, revealing his pale chest littered with scars and the occasional tattoo. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, displaying the healing wound that I'd sutured. He kept muttering to himself as if he didn't realize I was there.

"Hey," I whispered. "Boss."

He stopped rocking and turned towards me. The flickering light gave him a haunting and creepy glow. We didn't say anything - I reached out to offer the water. He dropped his chin to his bare chest and studied the bottle before slowly accepting it and pouring the contents of the bottle on his head rather than ingesting it. The bleeding heart that he detested was beginning to bleed for him in his sad state.

"You doing okay?"

His dripping green hair fell in front of his face and mopped up the remaining makeup. The horrific, terrible laughter started up again and he started to rock. I had very much preferred the Joker as he usually was – unhinged, but not catatonic. I held my hands up in front of me.

"Come…come with me. You should get out of this room for a little while. Okay?"

I spoke in the softest, calmest voice I could manage.

"Please?"

He didn't voice any protest or get angry, so I stood and placed my hand under his sweaty arm. From below the catwalk, the men rubbernecked; they looked like they were seeing a ghost instead of a temporarily mentally crippled man. I led him into my room and left the door wide open. He was licking his wounds, but I wasn't going to let my guard down around him. I led him to the desk and he sat down in the small wooden chair. I could now see his naked face in the light. There were very dark circles surrounding his eyes, and his scars were a shiny pale pink.

"Would you like to take a shower? Or I can get your clothes washed?"

No response. He wore a hundred yard stare. I sighed and exhaled upwards to blow my bangs out my face. I knelt down in front of him and snapped my fingers in front of his face. He startled and looked down at me.

"We need to fix this. Sooner than later. I just need to know how I can help you."

If he were himself, he would be reaming me for being "sensitive." I had decided that I didn't care, I was willing to go the extra mile for the money he was offering. Even if it didn't exist, because if there was even the slightest chance that it was true then I could use it to leave the city. I'd do whatever it took. And, from the looks of things, I was going to have to take matters into my own hands.

"Okay. C'mon. Stand up."

He sat with his palms running up and down his thighs. I stood, and hesitantly picked up his arm and yanked upwards.

He leaned against the bathroom counter while I turned the knobs on the shower and tested the temperature. His head hung forward while his shoulders slumped. Even with his horrible posture, he is much taller than me. I stood in front of him and looked up.

"Get in. You'll feel better."

Nothing but silence. I sighed yet again and pushed my hair back with my open palm. I looked him over once before taking the sleeves of his shirt in my hands.

"You'd better not be fucking with me," I warned before pulling his suspenders over his shoulders.

Once he was undressed, I led him into the steaming shower. He stood there naked and vulnerable, looking at me while his eye twitched. I could tell that he wanted to say something, like it was stuck behind his teeth.

"I'm not washing you. Soap and shampoo is in the corner."

It felt weird being assertive with him, but I really needed him to come back.

_Fucking Crane._

I gathered up his clothes into a bag, walked out of the room, and then downstairs.

"Ben."

He looked up from the card table.

"It's really bad," I said.

"So, what now?"

"I'm not sure," I said.

"I say," one of the others started. "We get rid of him. Dead weight."

I shook my head, "We can't do that."

"Why is that?" He laughed.

"He's a fucking bastard, I know. But, he's a better strategist than any of you or I will ever hope to be. He's got plans. I don't know what they are, but it's big. We need to stick with him until that happens. Then we can all go our separate ways."

_Or I can go my own way._

They nodded and looked at one another.

"So," Ben began. "What do we do?"

I looked at the bag of filthy clothing in my hands. And back at them. There was six of us at the time.

"Two of you stay here and keep an eye on him; bring him some clean clothes. Someone come with me so I can wash this disgusting suit. Two others…find out where Crane is."

"Are you crazy? Why would you want to find Crane?"

"I'm not crazy. Crane will know how to get the boss acting like himself again."

They looked at each other again, this time skeptically. I needed to speak to their wants.

"If he succeeds, so do we. Gotham will be ours. We'll be able to do whatever we want, no consequences."

"His," said the creepy man. "Gotham will be his."

The last person I wanted to hear anything from.

"He can't do it on his own," I retorted. "I don't care how smart he is. If he could, we wouldn't be here."

The room was silent for a moment.

"I'll go with Kay," Ben said finally. "The rest of you can sort it out."

Ben picked up the keys and we jumped into the van to find the nearest laundromat.

* * *

I hung a line up across a corner of my room and hung the Joker's clothes to dry. He sat on the mattress on the floor and rubbed his palms back and forth across the tops of his thighs. I watched him for a moment before reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the desk. I pulled one out, stuck it in between his lips, and lit it.

Essentially, I was a babysitter at this point. I sat and spoke to him in hopes that it would get him to speak normally. I wanted him to go on a ridiculous monologue or yell at me. And it was strange to watch; it proved that he was human after all. He was susceptible, just like the rest of us and it made him much less of a threat. He looked especially vulnerable in a t-shirt and jeans. He no longer had the dangerous edge, like a cobra with no venom. I edged on the fantasy of choking him to death like he'd nearly done to me.

But there was also a part of me that pitied him. That was the part of me that stayed and ensured that his shirt would dry without wrinkles. It was also the part that made sure he ate something and stayed hydrated. It was impossible for me not to care. Who he was had very little do with it. It was the fact that he couldn't help himself, and the fact that he was a somber shadow of his usual self.

"Kay."

I turned to see Ben at the door.

"They found him."

"Where is he?"

"He's got his own hideout. Not far from here."

I set down the Joker's green vest on top of my desk and began to stuff my pockets with ammunition and a few timer bombs.

"You can't go by yourself."

I strapped my gun to my leg.

"I can."

Ben walked into the room and held me by my shoulders.

"Kay. Why are you doing this? This guy," He said while nodding towards the Joker. "He doesn't give two fucks about you. If you do this, it won't make any difference to him."

I turned to look down at the boss. He was sucking on his cheek while staring at the ground.

"I'm not doing it for him."

Ben gave me a perplexed look. He was unaware of the offer Boss had made me.

"You don't need to understand," I said. "Just…trust that I know what I'm doing. If I get hurt or killed, it's all on me."

He let go of me and took a step back.

"You got that right."

I nodded and squatted down so I was eye-level with the Joker and snapped my fingers in his face.

"I'm off. I'm gonna try to get you some help. If you're messing with me, now would be a great time to tell me."

Drool dripped from the side of his mouth.

"Right. Okay, I'm going."

Once downstairs, I spoke with the creepy man. Unfortunately, he was the only one who was able to find Crane. I took down the address and directions to his hideout and stuffed them into my breast pocket.

"Give me the keys," I said.

He reached into his pocket and produced them for me.

"You need me to come with?"

"I'd rather eat an entire cactus," I scoffed as I walked out the front door.


	7. chapter 7

And for the third time on my journey, I stood outside of a building I was reluctant to enter. My palms soaked the paper I held in my hand, smearing the ink and making the directions useless. I dropped it on the ground and stepped to one side of the building so I could look inside. Crane was there. He didn't have very many men. They were all probably either back to Blackgate or in Arkham Asylum.

I thought about what the Joker might do if he were there with me. The man had confidence in droves; there was no way he would just be standing here thinking about what to do and say once inside. He would plan to make a dramatic entrance. I found one of the fire escapes and climbed up. Before entering, I looked inside again. There was no one on the top floor, so I opened the window and crawled in

_You got this, Kay. Keep doing what you think the boss would do._

I stood at the top of the stairs and took a deep breath before descending.

"Jonathan Crane," I said with poise.

His men pulled their guns on me while I put my hands up in the air.

"Woah, woah. There's no need for that. I'm not here to cause trouble."

Crane stood from the wooden crate he was sitting on.

"Put the guns down," he said calmly.

I leaned up against the railing of the stairs and crossed my arms in front of me. I could feel my heart racing in my chest. Crane stood in front of me, and a sudden sickeningly sweet smile spread across his face.

"Kay Bennet. It's been awhile. I thought I would have seen you walking the floors of Arkham by now."

"As an employee or an inmate?"

"Either way, you would have done well under me. Where have you been?"

For a moment, I looked at his face and into his eyes. They were still the gorgeous bright blue I remembered.

"I'm not really here to catch up, Jonathan."

"Shame," he said as he turned back towards the crate. "So, what are you here for? And a more pressing question, how did you find this place?"

I swallowed and cleared my throat.

_He's going to know you're freaking out. Keep it together._

"A colleague of mine," I said as I uncrossed my arms. "He's very ill, and I think that whatever you pumped into the air the other night caused it. I need to know how to help him. And as for how I found this place…your guys need to step up their awareness."

I didn't want him to know that the person I wanted to help was the Joker. If he's heard of him, there's no way he was going to help me.

"I see. Were you at all affected by the gas?"

"Yes. I was."

"You seem to be doing fine."

"That's another question I need answered, actually. Why I'm fine and he's…not."

He began to pace the room.

"The gas affects everyone differently. Their hallucinations, reactions, _everything_. Perhaps your friend is weak minded?"

"Not at all."

"No? Then maybe he's re-living some sort of trauma? In my test-runs, those who were already mentally ruined were more afflicted. Could be a number of explanations."

I immediately thought of the scars. That had to be an awful experience for him.

"So…how do I knock him out of it?"

Crane stopped and turned to me. His glasses were creeping down his nose and reminded me of a librarian. A stupidly handsome librarian. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a syringe that was filled with a clear liquid.

"What is that?" I asked.

"An antidote."

I thought that I was going to have to do some weird hypnosis or summon demons. An antidote was an even better solution.

"What do you want for it?"

My voice was beginning to sound desperate.

"Who said I was going to give it to you?"

My stomach sank.

"Jonathan, please. Whatever you want, I'll do it."

He smirked and looked down to the floor. He could sense my desperation.

"How about for the time being, you'll just owe me a favor. I'll call on that favor sometime in the near future."

I didn't like the sound of it, but I wasn't left with much of a choice.

"Sounds good."

He handed over the syringe and I stuffed it into my pocket.

"Anything specific I need to do?"

He shook his head, "Just stab and inject."

"Thank you Jonathan."

He snickered, "Don't thank me just yet."

I went to the front of the building and began to push the door open.

"Oh, and I would be cautious out there. Your employer made some enemies the other night."

I stopped and turned to look at him. He _knew_. I nodded and quickly headed out the door. Once I was out, I started to sprint towards the van. I felt relieved that it was over, but if Crane was right, that meant they'd be looking for me too. If he knew who I was working for, I had no doubt that Falcone knew too.

I rounded the corner to get to the van, and sure enough, Falcone's men were there waiting for me. I stopped and quietly turned around to find another way back.

"HEY!"

I didn't turn around to see who was yelling, I broke out into a full sprint. Gun fire echoed through the alleyway and peppered the ground surrounding me with sparks.

"SHIT SHIT SHIT!"

I climbed onto a fence and quickly vaulted over. They followed, hopping the fence and closing the gap between us. I drew my gun and began to fire back. Two of them went down screaming and holding their bleeding extremities.

_I've never shot anyone before._

One more continued to chase. I ran into the street, hoping that the view of the public would stop them from following. It didn't. I ran straight into a crowd surrounding a night club and ducked down behind some of the patrons. They stared down at me while I caught my breath.

"You okay?" One of them asked.

I put my finger to my mouth to stop them from speaking to me any further. The man that was chasing me quickly scanned the crowd, then continued to run down the street. I got up and ran in the opposite direction. On the sidewalk in front of me, there was a young man walking towards me with a bike.

"I am so sorry about this," I said as I ran up to him.

"Wha-"

I punched him in the face and took the bike. He laid on the ground and yelled that he was being robbed.

"Sorry again! Thank you!"

_I've never robbed anyone before._

I pedaled as hard and as fast as my legs would allow back to the hideout. I checked around me every few seconds to see if I was being followed – it seemed like I'd gotten away. I didn't stop for anything or anyone.

_Carmine is, for real, going to kill me._

I hurriedly pushed through the doors and ran up the stairs. Ben began to follow behind me.

"What happened?"

I continued to bolt up the stairs. By the time I got to my room, I thought I was going to collapse from exhaustion. My chest heaved up and down as I pulled the antidote from my pocket and approached the Joker. He sat in the same place he was when I left. He tilted his head at me like a confused dog and watched me remove the cap from the syringe with my teeth and spit it onto the floor.

"This _breath_ will _breath_ help."

I unstrapped the gun from my leg and set it on the mattress. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and stuck the syringe into his upper arm. I probably stabbed the needle in a little too hard, but it felt somewhat warranted. As I pushed down on the plunger, a commotion began downstairs. There was gunfire and yelling. I looked to Ben.

"What now?!"

He ran and looked over the railing, then pulled his own firearm before running towards the danger.

"They followed me," I whispered to myself.

I felt the Joker pull away from me. His eyes rolled up in his head and he fell backwards onto the mattress. I knelt over him and began to lightly slap his face with the tips of my fingers.

"Boss? C'mon. You gotta wake up."

I heard them coming up the stairs behind me and began to slap harder.

"Boss! For fuck's sake PLEASE!"

They came through the doorway with their guns raised at me. I aggressively attempted to wake him up until one of them grabbed me by my ankle and pulled me towards the doorway. The other stood over the boss and looked down at him.

"Tell Falcone this one's already dead."

He looked down at me.

"You just did our job for us," he laughed.

My forearms collected splinters on the wood floor as I was dragged out onto the catwalk. The man that was dragging me turned me over and lifted me up to his face by my shirt. I had forgotten every lesson I'd learned and screamed and struggled to release myself. I got a good look at him; he was one of the doormen that I would typically see before entering the restaurant.

"Carmine sends his regards from Arkham."

"Arkham?" I gasped.

He threw me behind him and I hit my head on the steel railing. I saw stars and held fast to the railing so I wouldn't hit the other side of my head. The doorman picked me up yet again and hovered me over the stairs. I looked down nervously and slapped at his hands.

"Well, what have you got to say for yourself?"

My feet struggled to find solid ground underneath them. If I was thrown down the stairs, there was no way I'd make it. I whimpered and shut my eyes tightly.

"I say, we step away from the stairs before someone gets hurt, hm?"

I opened my eyes - there was the Joker standing behind the doorman with my gun held to his head.

"C'mon now," the Joker said in a light tone.

I was placed back onto the floor. I put my back against the wall and sulked down until my butt reached my heels. The Joker handed my gun down to me grip first and held out his hand intently. I gave him a knife from my pocket in return. He held the man by the back of his neck and threatened him with the blade. The one-sided conversation that followed was the first of a series of similar, yet altered conversations.

The Joker asked the man, "You wanna know how I got these scars?"

The man continued to stare at him, wordless. I could see the fear in his eyes.

"Iii used to work under a real tyrant of a mob dealer. Was constantly taking out the competition, you know, anyone who got in the way. One night, he comes to me, he says 'I need you to take out someone's family for me. Wife, kids, even the dog if you need to.' Now, I'm not a complete monster, I'm _not _a. Child. Murderer. So, I tell 'em no. Know what he does? Has the boys hold me down while he 'makes an example of me.' Makes the first cut on my bottom lip, then forces my mouth open. He says, 'now the sight of you will make the women and children wish you'd killed them instead.'"

The Joker jammed the blade deep into the doorman's neck and pulled it out quickly. A spray of blood splattered across the Joker's face, and he remained un-phased as he pushed the dying man's body down the staircase.

"Gun. Now."

I handed it back to him; his rampage continued as he stood over the railing with his arms extended down, picking off Falcone's men one by one. Their angry, painful, dying yells floated upwards and made my ears ring. When the Joker had run out of targets he dropped the gun to the floor below, causing it to break.

I slowly pushed myself off of the wall, stood, and approached the Joker at the railing. There were bodies littered all over the concrete of the main floor surrounded by puddles of blood seeping out from newly punched-out orifices. Their faces were frozen with terror, their mouths gasping towards the ceiling. We lost two of our own. Ben, creepy man, and the youngest of the group remained. They stood in a half circle surrounding the dead, and looked up towards us on the catwalk.

The Joker placed his hand in the middle of my back and pulled me in. I looked into his dead, dark eyes. He would be a decent looking man if he got a good night's sleep and brushed his teeth.

"That was awfully close," he said in a teasing tone.

A sly smirk spread across his face as he studied my reaction. I didn't know whether to pull away, or start asking questions. I'd begun to stammer as I searched for the right reaction and he let me go. He left me to go downstairs.

"Miss me?" He said down to the remaining men, arms spreading out as he walked.

I sat down on the catwalk and wrapped my legs behind me. Down below, the Joker began to bark orders. He wanted the bodies moved out of the building before they began to smell.

"Kay!" The creepy man yelled up at me. "Get down here and help!"

I sighed and began to stand.

"No," said the Joker. "You three handle it on your own."

The creepy man retaliated, "She brought them here. Dumb bitch led them straight to us!"

The Joker nodded and shook his finger at the creep.

"How about…"

He punched the creep in the jaw.

"We let me worry about that, hm?"

The creepy man rubbed his face and frowned at the boss.

"Fine."

The Joker disappeared into the kitchen as Ben and the younger man started to drag the bodies out through the back door. Just has he saw the boss's back turn, the creepy man looked up and glared at me. I raised my eyebrows at him as if I were accepting some sort of challenge.

* * *

I went back to the bedroom to cool off for a few hours before removing the Joker's now-dried clothing from the line. As I folded them, I tidied up around the desk and pulled my bedding back together. My blankets and sheets smelled like stale cigarettes and a familiarly strong cologne. I picked up the suit from the desk and went down into the kitchen. The Joker sat at the table with his long legs propped up on the top. He was watching the morning news and mumbling to himself – taking mental notes on current events. I set the suit down on the table and pulled up a chair.

"You seem….better," I said cautiously.

He turned his head to acknowledge me and used his tongue to dig around at the sides of his mouth. The TV clicked off after he'd raised the remote and pressed the power button.

"Look who it is, my knight in shining armor."

I wasn't sure what to say, but he looked at me expectantly.

"We can't exactly do this without you," I said.

"Couldn't step up to the plate?"

I thought for a moment.

"I feel like, in a way, I did. These guys weren't going to do anything…so I did. That was my decision and I stand by it."

He pulled his legs down to the floor and rested his elbows on the table to lean closer.

"What _exact-ly_ did you have to do?"

"I visited Crane. He gave me the antidote."

He side-eyed me, "Surely, he didn't _give it _to you."

I lifted my arms and let them slap back down on my lap.

"He said I owed him."

He crossed his arms in front of him and laughed, "Imagine that."

"I know Crane personally. I wouldn't call us friends, but we're friendly. Nothing to worry about. Besides, what else was I supposed to do?"

"Leave it be. Your…intentions, as noble as they may seem, are bad moves. Never owe anyone anything, for anything."

I sat back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest. He reached over the table and gathered up the suit.

"We've got work to do," he said.

He pushed the chair out from behind him and turned to walk out of the kitchen.

"Wait," I said.

His neck pushed forward and stretched below his shoulders as he pivoted to look back at me.

"What did you see?"

He didn't answer my question. He only smiled, licked, and continued on his way.

* * *

The fall seemed to settle in much faster than usual that year. Gotham is beautiful when the leaves are changing. If you ever want to visit (although I don't know why you would), I suggest going during the fall. The fog hangs low over the ocean and the humidity that it provides over the summer is replaced with an extra chilly bite to the air. Gotham river fills with orange and red vegetation that drift down gently from the trees, making it look like one big, beautiful painting. The streets and shops are adorned with pumpkins and witches for Halloween. It's almost as if the city was built specifically for that specific time of year.

I sat on top of the building and smoked a cigarette in the early morning. As a way to practice a little self care in the wake of a hectic four months, I would often sit up there and enjoy my coffee. The area surrounding the building wasn't anything exceptional; mostly storage containers, dirt lots, dying trees, and other run down buildings. But in the distance I could see the ocean and the occasional ship drifting by in and out of the thick fog.

This particular morning was rainy and cool. I pulled my hood up over my head and leaned forward on the ledge. My breath was visible as I exhaled to blow into my mug before taking a few relaxing sips. The weeks after the Fear Toxin incident were spent adding fuel to Falcone's fire. The Joker was adding salt to any visible wounds he could find, and things were escalating. To say that things were getting stressful was an understatement.

Once I'd emptied the mug and smoked to my heart's content, I went back down into the building and to my room. It was already freezing inside, and I didn't see us getting space heaters anytime in the near future. I bundled up my jacket around my shoulders. On the shared wall between the rooms, I heard a beckoning and playful knock coming from the other side. That was how the Joker would summon me to his office. I picked up the large, black sketchbook from the desk and walked next door. He sat at his desk and jotted something down in his notebook. Behind him, the boarded up window was pelted with thick rain drops. It might have been cozy if the room wasn't freezing and there wasn't a grown man wearing clown makeup sitting in front of me.

"So," he began. "Whaddya got for me?"

I approached the desk and opened the sketchbook in front of him.

"Tannerite. It's sold for shooting practice, less chance of anyone being suspicious if we buy a lot at one time."

He looked over the pages and the placement I had chosen.

"How are we detonating?" He asked like a teacher trying to test me.

"Dealer's choice. You can either shoot at it, or I can build a detonator."

He pulled back and looked amused about being given a choice.

"What would you suggest?" He asked.

We'd been working closer together the last couple of weeks, and every job yielded a new lesson that he would teach me.

"Depends on how you expect them to move. Will they react to take us down or will they make a run for it?"

"What do we know about the Chechen and his men?"

I thought for a moment.

"Small operation, but recently teamed up with Falcone."

"Good. What does that mean?"

"They'll likely be together."

"So? What'll it be? Will they run or will they fight?"

I have him a perplexed look, as the answer seemed obvious. "They would fight. There would be enough of them to fight back."

"I disagree."

"Why?"

"Why….why,why," he said as his voice drifted off. "Why…don't we bet on it?"

"What do you want?" I asked slowly.

"Ladies first."

I looked down at the ground while I thought of something I could ask him for.

"I want a new gun. Automatic, like the one you've got."

He did have a really nice gun, and I was still using the busted up one.

"Good choice."

"Your turn."

He thought for a moment, then smirked.

"How 'bout a kiss?"

I laughed, "What?"

I figured there was more to it than that, and it was just a part of another one of his weird games. There was no way he'd ask for something so stupid otherwise. It felt manipulative.

"Afraid I'll win?"

"No."

Maybe this was his way of telling me to be confident with my answers. Still, I couldn't help but be suspicious. He reached over the desk and offered me his hand to finalize our agreement. I reluctantly came forward and shook on our strange deal. My hand stuck to his leather glove momentarily before I peeled it way and wiped my palm on my jeans.

I gave a sulky half-smile and turned to leave.

"Oh, wait," he said.

I looked back at him as he opened one of the bottom drawers of his desk. He held something behind his back while he sauntered towards me.

I startled and jumped back a little when he produced the item. I wasn't sure what to expect.

"Happy Halloween."

It was a clown mask similar to the ones the men wore, but it was blank instead of being painted with bright colors. I wasn't sure what being presented with a mask meant, but I also wasn't sure if I liked it.

"I feel like I've just been accepted into a cult."

"Iiii like to think of it as a private organization on the rise," he said as he spoke with his hands.

I laughed through my nose. Letting my guard down around him was starting to feel normalized.

"To each their own," I said.

He raised an index finger at me and made a clicking noise with his mouth.


	8. Chapter 8

Strangers moved in and out of the building at a rapid pace while the boss conducted "interviews." Our numbers were too low for us to continue, and the young man that accompanied Ben and I was still too new to the concept of "thuggery" to be effective. Further complicating things, the creepy man (whose name I'd discovered was Dennis) had left and had been gone for some time. The Joker demanded that Dennis be brought to him if he were found. That probably would have seemed harsh if it were anyone but the creep.

I stood at the kitchen counter and sang to myself while I swayed my hips.

_Black lipstick stains her glass of red wine_

_I am your servant, may I light your cigarette?_

_Those lips smooth, yeah I can feel what you're saying, praying_

_They say the beast inside of me is gonna get ya, get ya, geeeeet_

"What the hell are you listening to?" Ben laughed

I lowered the volume on my phone and bounced a tea bag inside of a thick mug of hot water.

"Type O Negative. I've been in a mood lately."

He continued to snicker, "Like a vampire mood, or?"

"Oh, shut up."

I pressed pause on the phone and sat down at the table. Through the open doorway of the kitchen, I saw more strangers being nosey and watching while we enjoyed our breakfast. Most of the men, and the occasional woman, who came through the entrance appeared desperate, deranged, or lost – perfect for the Joker to shape. I wondered which category I fit into.

"How do all of these people know that he's looking for new help?"

Ben shrugged and took a sip of his orange juice.  
"Word of mouth maybe? I don't remember seeing any flyers sitting around."

The image of the Joker impatiently standing in line at Kinkos trying to get his flyers printed popped into my head.

Up above, a single gun shot fired and was followed up by the thick _plop _of a body hitting the floor in the main room. I took a bite of my English muffin and gazed over at the corpse.

"I just wish he'd tell them they didn't get the job instead of making a mess."

Ben nodded and continued to read his newspaper. The weaker blood of the group sorted itself out as those who were disgusted at the sight of a dead body ran away. In hindsight, I guess it should have freaked me out. Just like it used to.

"Kay!" The Joker yelled from the second floor.

"Damn it," I sighed. "I just want to eat in peace."

"KAY!"

"Better see what he wants," said Ben.

I rolled my eyes like a spoiled teenager and left the kitchen. A group of men waiting at the bottom of the stairs eyed me while I climbed. I heard their hushed whispers behind my back, but I wasn't sure what they were about.

_I must be gaining a reputation._

Inside of his office, the Joker leaned back in his chair looking unamused.

"Shut the door."

I thought I might have been in trouble, but remembered I'd been in his good graces. He lazily motioned for me to take a seat in the front of his desk.

"I'm getting…impatient. We need at least…" He picked up the notebook from his desk and flipped through the pages. He stopped on a page and searched through its information with his finger. "Two more guys for tonight's stroll."

"I take it the talent search isn't going well?"

He closed the notebook and looked up at the ceiling.

"I want you to pick."

I twisted my mouth up into a conflicted scrunch.

"What exactly are you looking for?"

He checked his pocket watch.

"Make it quick."

Annoyed, I closed my eyes and exhaled through my nose.

"Alright."

I begrudgingly stood and moved to leave the room. Once I was back down the stairs, I stepped on top of the long table that sat in the middle of the room and stuck my fingers in my mouth to whistle. The Joker leaned over the railing on the catwalk to observe.

"Listen up!" I yelled. "Bossman needs two more guys. Competition is tight…"

The group looked confused and tired. One of the men standing closest to me had his finger in his nose, knuckle deep.

"…but I think we can narrow it down pretty quickly."

One of the men raised his hand and waited for me to address him.

"What?" I asked rudely.

"What kind of benefits are you offering?"

Some of the others in the group began to quietly laugh.

"Y…you serious? You don't join a gang for benefits."

I could already see why the Joker was getting frustrated.

"Anyone else here interested in benefits?"

The man who had initially asked raised his hand again, followed by a few others.

"Okay, leave, go."

They looked around, looking like they were unsure of what was happening. On the catwalk, the boss snickered as he lit a cigarette. Ben stood in the large doorway of the kitchen. Once they left the building, I turned gave by attention back to the group and thought of what to do to prove themselves. I paced back and forth on the table before the body on the ground caught my eye.

"Someone get rid of this body."

I stared intensely at the group waiting for someone to move. Five of them came forward and worked together to take the stiff out the back door.

"The rest of you can leave," I said.

"Excuse me, what?"

A man with a face full of tattoos and rotting teeth moved to the front of the crowd.

"I'm sorry, was there some part of that very short fucking sentence that was unclear? If you can't handle touching a dead guy, you do not belong here."

He came up to the table and stood in front of me.

"You're not the Joker. Why do you get to choose?"

I smiled, "You're right, I'm not. I'm much more patient. In fact, if he were down here, you'd probably be dead right now."

Above, the boss pushed his bottom lip up towards his nose and lightly nodded in agreement.

"I didn't show up to take orders from a bitch."

I pulled my chin back into my neck and laughed.

"This _bitch _was instructed to go ahead and relay these orders. By extension, this decision is the Joker's; I'm just representing him. For your sake, I hope he hasn't taken offense."

The man made a face at me and took a step back.

"Oh, and if you've got the balls," I said as I pointed upwards. "By all means, but he's not very receptive to feedback."

He considered it for a moment as he looked up towards the catwalk. The boss was entertained.

The man nodded, "I'll be back."

He turned to leave.

"The rest of you, go with him."

The group followed behind the tattooed man and left single file out the front door. As the last few shuffled away, the five who had removed the body returned to the room.

"Good job, boys. But three of you still have to go. Before we move on, anyone want to bail?"

They shook their heads 'no', nearly in unison.

"Alright."

I started to pace again. I didn't know what to have them do next. My hands felt around my pockets; I felt a recognizable lump in one of them and took it out. I held a timer bomb out in front of me and twirled it around between my index finger and thumb so they could see it.

"Anyone know what it is?"

They looked at one another.

"Anyone?"

"Bomb?" A man in a purple hoodie said in an upward infliction.

I nodded and stepped down from the table.

"Right. Huddle together."

They hesitantly came together in a small circle. I pointed to one, who was wearing a dirty white t-shirt and jeans.

"Put your hand out."

His eyes widened, and his shoulders lifted and dropped with a deep breath. He stuck his trembling palm out.

"This is how this is going to work. I'm going to set this thing to go off in three minutes. No more, no less. Filthy guy here is going to hold it on the bottom and the rest of you will put your hands on top. Any questions?"

"What happens when it goes off?" The purple hoodie man asked.

"Well, what typically happens when bombs go off?"

They fell silent. The filthy man stared at his empty hand.

"Those of you who are brave enough to stay with the bomb get the job. But emember, we only need two."

The man in the filthy shirt pulled his hand back and ran for the door.

"Anyone else?"

The remaining four stayed quiet.

"Alright then, purple guy, you're up."

He stuck his flat palm out in front of me. I twisted the timer for three minutes and set it in his hand. The other three shakily set their hands on top of the purple man's palm and the bomb. I stepped back and stood with the table between us. The only audible noise in the room was the ticking from the timer. The men were sweating bullets, and above us the Joker leaned forward on the railing. He was very intrigued.

With each tick, the tension in the room increased. One of the men was shifting his feet back and forth and began breathing heavier. When the pressure became too much for him, he also ran for the door. Three remained, with less than one minute remaining. Once the time ticked further down to the end, I began to slowly walk back around the table and count down with the remaining seconds.

"Five…four…three…two…_one."_

As soon as I said one, the remaining three jumped back and the bomb dropped to the floor. The Joker and I cackled together. I didn't notice him come down the stairs, but he was standing at the bottom to get a better look.

I bent down to pick up the timer from the floor. The men were still tense and unsure of themselves.

"Relax guys. It's just the timer. There's no explosive inside."

I stuck the timer in my pocket and looked towards the Joker.

"Three left. What do you want to do?"

He dropped his cigarette on the floor and snuffed it out with his shoe. As he approached the three remaining contenders, he snorted and spit out clear phlegm onto the concrete. He stood in front of each one of them individually, then looked them over as a group. Once he seemed satisfied, he stepped back, quickly drew his gun from his pocket and shot the man in the purple hoodie as he looked over at me.

"Kay will show you two the ropes."

He put the gun back into his coat and moved in the direction of his office. I turned to the newbies.

"Get him out of here," I said as I pointed towards the purple hoodie man.

I quickly followed behind the boss.

"Hey," I said softly.

He stopped in the middle of the flight and looked back down at me.

"Wouldn't an extra guy be helpful? Why did you shoot him?"

His face demonstrated that he was surprised that I was questioning him. He stepped down the stairs towards me, pushing his face close to mine.

"Purple's my color."

* * *

The new van arrived the day before and was a vast improvement over the last one. This one had heating, A/C, and was a less obvious matte black color. Ben's sources were unknown, but he said that he was able to pull a few last-minute strings to get the boss what he needed. He was now the driver of the van, as the last one was killed in the altercation with Falcone's men.

Gilbert (the young man that remained with Ben and Dennis), sat next to me on the bench seat behind Ben and the Joker. The new recruits sat next to one another in the back. I laid a shotgun across my lap and strapped my mask to the top of my head, ready to pull it down once we went inside the Chechen's night club.

Before we left, the Joker briefed us all on how the evening would play out. He told us what to do if they fought back, and he told us what to do if they ran. Ultimately, I'd decided to make a detonator for the Tannerite, as I assumed it would be less obvious. The Joker seemed to have agreed with my assumption. I wasn't even nervous about the idea of what would happen if things went south – that was constantly on my mind. I was nervous about having to admit defeat. The thought of tasting his last cigarette made me nauseated.

Ben parked the van two blocks away from the club and into the shadows of an alley. He would be staying inside the getaway while we went inside; I envied him.

"Good luck," he said as I opened the van door.

He held out his fist and I bumped it with my own before pulling down my mask and dropping down into the alleyway. The Joker passed the bag with the Tannerite inside and handed it to Gilbert.

"Don't mess this up. Take one of them with you," the Joker said, pointing to one of the new men.

Gilbert took the bag and ran down the alleyway with the new man in tow. The Joker tapped my arm with the back of his hand and motioned for me to follow him. We followed him down the street, nonchalantly, like we weren't wearing masks and carrying guns and duffel bags full of weapons. These moments are always satirical in hindsight, but in the moment my stomach rises to my throat and my knees shake. It wasn't until we were halfway there, that I realized that I'd left the shotgun on the seat of the van.

"Shit!"

"What did you do?" Boss asked as he continued walking.

"Forgot something in the van. I'll catch up before you get there."

I turned to run back towards the van. Up ahead, I could see a police cruiser pulling into the alleyway. I pulled my mask up and got ready to help Ben if he needed to get away. I inched closer to the corner and peeked around the corner. What I saw made me uneasy: a police officer stood at the driver's side window speaking calmly with Ben. Instead of making myself known, I quietly stepped away from the alleyway and ran to meet back up with the group. As I approached, the Joker turned back to look at me and furrowed his brow; he could tell something was off. I looked back towards the van and back up at him. He pulled a small revolver out of the inside of his jacket and handed it to me.

"I'll tell you later," I said.

He nodded and reached up to pull my mask back down over my face before we continued down the sidewalk. The Joker confidently pushed the bouncers inside of the club as we raised our guns at them. The people waiting outside ran away screaming in their heels and fancy dress shirts. The mass hysteria began almost as soon as the other patrons saw us. Most of them cleared out from the club, while others hid in the small side rooms, or huddled together against the walls. The strobe lights and music stopped abruptly. We saw Gilbert and the other new guy standing in the loft upstairs, they signaled that everything was in place.

"Good evening everyone. Great party. Although, I am a little hurt that we weren't invited."

He coolly looked around the room while the rest of us held the crowd back with our guns.

A large group of men appeared from the top of the stairs and pointed their own weapons at Gilbert and his accomplice. Nearly everyone in the room was yelling and screaming. I lifted the revolver above my head and shot off a round.

He continued, "I'm looking for the Chechen, close friend of mine. Anyone seen him?"

One of the members of the other group pointed his gun at the Joker.

"He's not here. Piss off."

"What a shame. Maybe you can leave a message for me?"

The Joker looked back at me and opened his jacket, revealing its bright orange satin lining. He pulled the detonator from one of the inside pockets and revealed it to the other group. They all raised their guns at us.

_They're going to mow us all down._

The next few moments felt like they occurred in slow motion. He lifted the detonator up and held down the safety button while his other hand turned a key on the other side. One after another, the bundles exploded in a long succession beginning on the bottom floor and continuing to the top. I covered my ears with my hands while I watched the remaining bundles go off. The other group lowered their guns and covered their heads. The smoke began to lift slowly and revealed dismembered bodies underneath. The explosions had removed a decent chunk of the club's patrons and members of the Chechen's group.

Their remaining members stood and took aim at us once again. I aimed back and half smiled underneath my mask. My finger tightened around the tiny gun's trigger and prepared myself for a fight. Then, the boss pulled another detonator from the other side of his jacket. He triggered the final explosion, killing five of the remaining ten that stood on the top floor with Gilbert. Once the smoke cleared again, they began to run in all directions. My smile immediately dropped.

_They were going to fight!_

I walked quickly towards the back of the club, assuming the Chechen was hiding somewhere. The Joker walked along side me.

"That was cheap," I said, annoyed.

He responded with giggling and mocking kissing noises. No matter which side I'd chosen, I would have lost.

We approached the back of the club where there was a thick steel door with a padlock on the outside. He shot at the lock and pulled it out of the latch. The large door squeaked open and revealed a large flight of stairs with standing water at the bottom.

"What the hell is this?" I asked.

Behind us, someone fired in our direction. The Joker returned fire and ushered me through the door with his other hand. I hurried down the stairs and stood in the water at the bottom. The dark room looked similar to a sewer with multiple rows of tall steel walls that seemed to serve no purpose. I walked further into the room, each of my steps made an unpleasant sloshing noise.

The door opened again, followed by more steps and bullets. I ducked into one of the rows and lifted my mask. The darkness made it difficult to see anything unless it was an inch away from your face. I slowly shuffled my feet along the floor underneath the water to avoid making any splashing noises. I estimated that there were at least two other people in the room with me. I could hear more careful drips and splashes coming from the other rows. But there was no more shooting.

Suddenly, on the other side of the room, there were multiple loud stomping feet rapidly approaching closer and closer. The gunfire continued once again.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?" An unrecognizable voice screamed out.

I leaned myself up against the wall and crouched down. The screaming continued.

"NO, NO, PLEASE, NO!"

The voice screamed out in agony. I heard bones snap and skin tear.

_What got him? It can't be the boss._

A loud, growling, guttural noise belted out like a banshee. Whatever was over there was _pissed_.

"I can _smell_ you," the monstrous voice called out into the dark.

I pressed my hand into the wall and used it to help myself up. My heart was pounding in my head, and my lungs ached and pleaded to take in the deep breaths that my body needed. The thing was coming closer and closer to where I was slowly creeping along, and it could move much faster in the water than I could. I froze in the middle of the row between the steel walls and crept down again. At the end of the row, I could see a massive figure coming towards me. I held my breath and waited for it to break out into a sprint towards me. It didn't acknowledge me, but it would tilt its head up into the air as if it were smelling something. It could smell _me_.

My legs bent carefully, and I lowered my knees into the sketchy water below. I let the rest of my body flatten along the floor and held my breath before lowering my head into the water. The water was ice-cold and gave me a nearly instant headache. Around me, I could feel the water shifting as the thing came closer. I was just praying to anything that would listen to my thoughts that the thing wouldn't step on me.

I waited as long as I could manage without drowning. Once my head raised above the water, I took in a deep, quiet breath and looked over my shoulder. The thing had moved to the end of the row and turned around the corner to prowl the others.

"I will find you!" It bellowed.

I pushed myself up from the ground, and tip toed back the way I came. I was three-fourths of the way back to the end of the row and tripped on something hard that sat underneath the water and waited to sabotage me. I fell face first into the water and immediately raised the attention of the unknown creature. My body sprung up from the ground and my freezing legs pumped as hard as they could manage. I could hear the thing running after me. It was so much faster than I was, and it was only a matter of time before it pounced and preyed on me.

From the side, I felt a hard, jarring tug on the sleeve of my shirt that pulled me into a nook in the wall. An arm wrapped around my shoulders, and a hand covered my mouth. My body trembled uncontrollably from the fear and cold, and I struggled against the arms for a moment before a voice whispered in my ear.

"Ssshh sh sh."

I stopped when I realized it was the Joker. I tapped his hand with my fingertips to shoo it away, so I'd be permitted to breathe. I turned my head to look back through the space in the wall. In my peripherals, I saw him eyeing the room with me. I made a gesture with my head to get his attention and moved my eyes towards the door to silently ask him if we should move. He shook his head, "no," in small, quick jerks.

His breath was hot on my neck and I could feel his pulse where his chest touched my back. He was just as put off about this as I was. If he was nervous, I was nervous.

We remained still and quiet for what I assumed to be at least five minutes. It was eternal. The sound of our breaths and far away drips from the water cohered and conquered the silence. I didn't realize that I'd been holding onto his arm until he dropped it to his side.

"Can we go?" I whispered anxiously.

A large hand reached into the room and wrapped itself around my entire forearm. I began to scream, and I felt my arm break away from my rotator cuff. The creature threw me against one of the steel walls and rushed closer. I could finally see it: it was a man, or what used to be a man, covered from head to toe in sharp green scales. His mouth was filled with razor sharp teeth that glistened in the darkness as he spoke.

"I will tear you in half."

I pulled myself into a ball and pressed myself into the cold steel, waiting for my head to be torn from my shoulders. There was a tingling feeling in the air as the sounds of electricity crackled and popped. I turned back towards the lizard man and saw another large figure wrapping its arms around the creature's neck.

"GO!" The other figure yelled.

By the voice, I could tell it was Batman. I stood from the freezing waters and ran back towards the entrance. At the top, I could see the Joker's coat tails bouncing behind him as he hurried out of the club. I could hear police sirens in the distance, approaching closer. I ran past the Joker and held my floppy arm to stop it from bouncing around. Every connection that my feet made with the ground was excruciating.

Outside of the club, Ben was already waiting with the rest of the guys. The door was wide open, and they waved for us to hurry inside. I jumped in, closely followed by the Joker. He sat next to me instead of getting into the passenger seat. I leaned my forehead against the back of the driver's seat and cried out in agony.

The van sped away from the club, running red lights, and cutting off other vehicles. The trip back seemed to take longer than it already did. Kind of like when you're trying to rush back home because you've got to pee so bad, except it was because I was in blinding, nauseating pain.

When we stopped, I nearly lifted my legs to push Joker out of the van so I could get out faster, but I didn't want a broken leg to match my arm. We all slowly did a funeral-like procession to go back inside. That night wasn't an absolute failure, but it raised more questions than it answered. I'd heard stories from Jonathan about strange mutated inmates at Arkham, but I thought they were _only _stories.

I hung my head and held my arm. I thought I would pass out before I even got through the doorway. I also hoped that one of the guys had some Fentanyl that they could inject me with.

I leaned my weight against the wall and drug myself to the stairs. The Joker blocked my path.

"I need to go lay down," I said as the sting of vomit piled up in the back of my throat. I tasted hot sweat and tears on my lips.

He came closer and cast a tall, intimidating shadow over me.

"Stay still."

His hands reached out towards my arm. I turned away from him.

"Don't."

His tongue dug around his dry lips and he looked to Ben.

"Hold her down," he said to the others.

"What? No!" I exclaimed.

He took off his jackets while Ben pulled me back towards the table. He lifted me up and laid me on my stomach.

"Don't fight it, Kay," Ben said.

Gilbert and the newbies each ensured that I would not be able to move. I kicked and screamed; I didn't want anyone to touch me. I wanted to be left alone. I saw the boss roll up his sleeves and take my pendulous arm in his grasp. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and shoved it into my mouth before bending over to speak to me.

"It'll only hurt for a second," he said.

He placed one hand on my upper back and the other near my elbow. He looked excited about shoving my arm back in place, like the impending snap would cure some sort of constriction in his own body.

His arms jerked. I felt and heard the pop. I puked and passed out.


	9. Chapter 9

"Kay, have I ever told you about the monsters that this city has created?" Jonathan said as he swirled his wineglass.

I sat up straight at the table, hoping he'd notice my new dress.

"You mean like Al Ghul? Does that even count?"

He smiled after setting the glass down on the table.

"No, I mean the literal ones. You take a man that has, say, a severe medical condition. The people look at him in disgust; he cannot function in everyday society. But that's not what makes him a monster. It's the people that he's supposed to trust: they abandon him."

The lights flicker in the restaurant, but no one else seems to notice. I place my hands on the edge of the table.

"Who are you referring to?"

Jonathan laced his fingers together and placed his elbows on the table.

"When you begin practicing, you will witness things that will haunt you for the rest of your life."

The other people at the tables surrounding us seem to disappear into thin air. I turned around to look, and the room suddenly went dark.

"But don't worry, Kay."

I turned back to look at Crane.

"I'll take good care of you," a low, growling voice said.

From the shadows on the other side of the table, the lizard man took me by the arm and sank his razor-sharp teeth into my skin.

* * *

I woke in a cold sweat, still laying face-down on top of the long table. The arm that had been dislocated dangled over the side, nearly touching the floor. I used my good arm to push myself up and looked around the room. The floor had smeared trails of blood leading to the back door, and the Joker's broken desk was pushed into a corner on the other side. There was no one else there.

The arm was back in its socket, but it was still sore. I pulled down a curtain from one of the boarded windows in the kitchen and fashioned a sling out of it.

Daylight peeked from between the boards. The boss didn't like going out during the daytime unless it was necessary, so I was hopeful that he would be in his office. I still needed to tell him about Ben. It felt like tattling, but if he found out on his own _and _found out that I'd already known, he would be furious with me. Additionally, I needed to talk to him about nearly being dismembered by a mutant lizard man. I needed to talk to _someone_ about it.

I went to the office – it was empty. The Joker's papers and books were spilled around in a haphazard circle in the middle of the floor. My room was also empty. I picked up a cigarette from the pack on the desk and climbed up to the roof. I had alone time, I might as well have enjoyed it.

The cold punched me in the face when I opened the door. It was still raining – a tradition for this time of the year. At the ledge of the building, Ben stood propping himself against the half wall that saved him from falling to his death. I stopped, and hesitantly joined him. I wasn't sure if he knew that I saw him speaking with the police.

"Morning," he said.

"Hey," I responded quietly.

"How's the arm?"

I looked down at the ugly curtain sling.

"Sore, but its back in place. I can't complain too much, I guess."

"You're lucky he did that for you."

I laughed, "I think he did it more for his own enjoyment. Maybe to see if he _could_ do it."

There was a pregnant silence sitting between us. From between the storage containers in front of the building, we could see the black van approaching.

"Has he shared any new plans with you?" He asked me.

My eyes stayed with the van. The question struck me as suspicious.

"No, he hasn't."

Another silence.

"Want me to light that?" He asked, motioning towards the cancer stick in between my fingers.

"Um, no. I'm going to go back down, thanks."

I pushed away from the wall and went to the catwalk to meet the Joker at his office. He walked in and looked at the table. His head jerked to one side when he saw that I wasn't where he left me.

"Psst!" I hissed from the floor above.

He looked up at me and grinned before meeting me at the top of the stairs. There was a large bag resting over one of his shoulders.

"I've got a project for you," he said as he signaled for me to follow him into the office.

On my way in, my eyes met Ben's as he came down from the roof. He watched me walk in and shut the door.

"Boss, I have to talk to you about something."

He put his hand up to stop me.

"It can wait."

He crouched down placed the black bag down on the floor. Inside, there was large bundles of dynamite and wires. They looked almost too cartoony to be real. He placed one of the bundles in my good hand.

"I want you to place them around this building. Try to be discreet."

"What? Why?"

"Think of it as…insurance. I'll even let you hold onto the detonator."

I must have looked unsure.

"Just don't press the button until you're sure it's necessary."

I nodded.

"Get to it."

He got up from his couching position and opened the door.

"Wait," I said.

His shoulders dropped and his head bent back towards the ceiling. He was annoyed.

"I really think you need-"

"_Tah tah tah_," he interrupted. "Get. To. It."

I stepped forward.

"But!"

He looked over his shoulder and shot me a cold, threatening stare. I shut my mouth and stared at the floor. His cracked leather shoes entered my view, and he squeezed my face together with one of his hands.

"Is there some sort of misunderstanding?"

His tongue took a lap around his mouth.

I shook my head.

"Good."

His hand dropped and I rubbed my cheeks. He, Ben, Gilbert, and the newbies left the building, leaving me to place the dynamite. I chose the most inconspicuous places I could manage while ensuring their placement would mean that the building collapsed completely. The difficult part, which is almost always the difficult part, was hiding and disguising the wiring. I stuffed it into various nooks and crannies, silently hoping that a rat or some other varmint wouldn't come along and start to chew on it.

Once the work was done, I went to my room to shower. At my feet, I could see green strands of hair protruding from the drain. The feint whiff of gasoline seemed to stick to the tiles. After I was clean, I toweled off, dressed, and sat on the mattress to read.

Hours passed, and they returned. Usually, when they came back in, they were loud and laughing. This time, there was a dead silence. I didn't get up from the mattress to investigate. Instead, the boss came up, shut the door, and sat on the edge of the desk.

"Is it taken care of?"

I sat up and put the book face down on the floor.

"Everything's in place."

He nodded and reached into one of his pockets to supply me with the detonator. I looked at it for an awkwardly long amount of time before getting up from the bed. Once it was in my hands, I examined it for a moment.

"Not. Until it's necessary," he warned, putting emphasis on his T's.

"Okay," I breathed.

I placed the detonator inside of the sling and took a step back from him, readying myself to sit back down.

"Forgetting something?" He asked.

Not so much forgetting, as much as avoiding. Oddly enough, he puts a lot of value into promises and bets. He expects nothing less from others.

"You're serious?" I asked.

"Do I look un-serious?"

If it were any other man in makeup and a purple suit, I probably would have said yes.

"A bet's a bet," he said matter-of-factly.  
He reached his hand out to me, and I nervously took it. I was pulled in and stood between his legs. I didn't look at him, I wasn't sure if I could. The physical attention made me flustered, and I could feel the red pouring into my face. It had been ages since anyone had touched me in a non-violent manner. However, this wasn't a loving, tender moment – no such feelings exist between us and he doesn't believe in that sort of thing.

I felt unsure of myself and struggled to decide what to do with my one free arm. His long fingers rolled around the back of my neck. I finally looked up, and he eyed me like a mantis contemplating its prey. I felt stiff and constricted, breathless and mentally worn. He drew me in closer and pushed his lips onto mine. It was aggressive, and nearly feral. I felt the greasiness of his makeup smear onto my face. Going in, I expected the taste of cigarettes and bitter lipstick, but there was nothing. He was tasteless.

I began to loosen up and softly rested my fingertips on his chest, ready to push away if I needed to. He pulled tighter so there was little to no space between us and ran a hand underneath the back of my shirt. The leather of his glove slid up my bare back and stopped suddenly while his other hand swung around and placed something cold and metal into the back of my pants.

I pushed with the hand I had on his chest and placed it on the object. It was a gun. I pulled my face away from his.

"But I was wrong," I whispered.

"The point," he said softly but intently. "Is the _illusion_ of choice."

I understood what he was getting at, but I didn't understand why he went through the trouble. I would have lost the bet no matter what. Everything that he had taught me up to that point seemed trivial, but it wasn't until that moment that I realized that he was molding and manipulating me. He was preparing me for something, I just didn't know what for. And it wouldn't be until nearly a year later that I'd find out.

He scooted himself forward and dropped his feet to the ground. His hands grasped onto my shoulders and pushed me down forcefully, so I was sitting down on the bed. He left the room chuckling softly to himself. I hurriedly pulled the gun from the back of my pants and looked at it. It was exactly what I had requested. Near the bottom of the grip was a small engraving.

"- J"

_Like I'd ever forget who gave me the gun._

"Kay."

My head shot up towards the door, and I put the gun back where it was. It was Ben. A loud "PFFFFT" instantly burst from his mouth.

"What was going on in here?" He asked accusingly and amused.

"What do you mean?"

He tapped his finger on his face. I used the back of my sleeve to wipe my mouth - there was red caked everywhere. I got up to go to the bathroom and wash it away.

"When you're done, come downstairs. Join us for a beer, or two, or six."

He turned to leave.

"Ben, wait."

He peeked back around the corner.

"Don't. Tell. Anyone," I warned.

"Secret's safe with me," he laughed.

"Like I can trust you," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

I dried my face and met him outside the room and we walked next to one another down the stairs. Ben kept looking over at me; he looked unsure if he should say anything.

"Didn't know you had a thing for dirty clowns."

"Ben, I swear to god," I said half laughing. "It's not even what you think."

"I'm not sure I want to know."

I rolled my eyes and we took the last step off the stairs. Gilbert and the newbies had started without us and popped open their second cans. In the middle of the table was a large case of beer and a couple of bottles of liquor. I made myself comfortable at one end of the table and pulled a can towards me.

"Whose idea was this?" I asked.

"Joker's," Ben replied quickly.

Gilbert and the newbies looked at one another and nodded in agreement. It seemed strange, but I didn't think much of it; Joker did a lot of _really_ strange things. Satisfied with the answer, I flicked the top of my beer and downed it quickly.

I hoped that the alcohol would help me to stop feeling so many things, namely the pain in my shoulder. The first one turned into a second, and then a third. I started getting a buzz and laughed with the guys. It was almost normal, like I was just hanging out with a bunch of friends. Everything was so hectic recently, and it was nice to finally be able to wind down.

"Okay, shots!" Gilbert yelled out.

I drew closer to the other side of the table to join them. One turned into two, two turned into three. Everyone's movements began to slow, and someone turned on some music. I went to sit back down and fell onto the floor instead. Laughter ensued, and I was handed another can. I remained on the floor with my legs out in a v-shape in front of me. My head and shoulders began to sway with the music.

"You guys wanna play kings?" I asked, slightly slurring my words.

"What's kings?" One of them asked.

"Get a deck of cards."

There was always a deck of cards sitting out somewhere. The Joker pulled them apart specifically for one card (bet you can't guess which one) and dumped the rest. Once we were all sitting at the table, I explained the rules of the game.

"You put a cup in the middle of the table and spread the cards around it. Each card is a rule, the most important one is a king. If you draw a king, you pour some of your drink into the cup. The last person to draw a king has to drink from the cup."

"Seems easy enough," said Ben as he tipped is beer upwards.

I looked and saw the Joker standing in his usual spot.

"Room for one more, boss."

He shook his head, "it's more fun watching you make fools of yourselves."

He wasn't wrong.

I shuffled the deck and used the cards to make a ring around the cup in the center of the table.

"Newbie," I said to the man sitting to the left of me.

"My name is Jeff."

"Okay, Jeff. You go first."

He picked up a card from the table and showed it to us.

"Jack," I said. "Everyone drinks."

All four of us threw back the cans.

I looked to the man sitting next to Jeff.

"Newbie two."

"My name is Robert. And how do we know you're not making up the rules as you go?"

"Because," I laughed. "they won't work out in my favor."

He reached to pick up a card.

"Four," he said.

"Last person to touch the floor with their hands has to drink!" I yelled.

All of the chairs surrounding the table scooted back and we all raced to get our hands on the dirty floor around us. We continued around the circle, until there was only half a deck left, and we were all feeling the alcohol's effect. It was getting rowdy, and it was Ben's turn.

"Queen," he said.  
"Ques..tion," I replied. "You ask annyone any queestion you want."

He smiled a shit-eating grin.

"Alright. Kay. What's going on between you n' boss?"

I crushed one of my nearly empty cans and threw it at him.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked.

"Nothing. Just a question," he said as he smiled towards the catwalk.

The Joker smiled back down at him, but it was venomous.

"I just feel like the boys and I need to know if you're gonna be getting equal treatment."

I looked up. The boss gave me a small nod.

"It was just a bet," I said seething. "Nothing else."

I reached to pick up a card, and also drew a queen. I smiled and threw the card on the table so he could see it.

"Okay, Ben. Since you want to play _that_ way."

He gave me a smug grin, thinking I couldn't top his ass-hattery. Maybe it was the booze, but I was angry.

"Why were you talking to the cops last night?"

The color drained from his face and his eyes widened.

"What was that?" The Joker asked from the catwalk. He started to slowly make his way down.

"Yeah, Joker. I saw your guy here talking to an officer when I went back for the shotgun."

Ben began to back away from the table.

"She's lying!"

"Grab him," I said.

Robert and Jeff went after Ben, who tripped over himself in an attempt to get away. They held him down by his arms and I crouched over him.

"You seem nervous Benny boy," said the Joker.

I pressed my hand into Ben's chest and felt something in his shirt. I pulled a knife from my pocket and started a cut at the bottom of his t-shirt before using my hands to tear it up to the neck. There was a microphone taped to his chest.

"Boss…" I started.

That's when we heard the sirens in the distance, and they were coming closer.

"Take him upstairs," the Joker said. "Get rid of him."

"Roof," I said to Jeff and Robert.

They pulled Ben to his feet and drunkenly moved him up the stairs. The Joker propped a chair against the front door and waited. We could hear the cruisers approaching outside. When we reached the top of the stairs, the yelling started.

"You have one minute to open this door!"

I closed the door to the roof behind us.

"To the ledge," I said.

They held him in place as I walked closer, and I took my new gun out.

"What the fuck, Ben?" I asked as I pointed the gun at him.

"Kay, I can get you out of this. You just have to work with me."

I grinned and put my finger on the trigger. An unseen force knocked me off my feet, and the gun slid across the rooftop. I looked up to see the Bat moving towards Ben and his captors. I grabbed the gun and went downstairs to warn the boss. I looked over the railing. He was gone, but the police were inside.

"FREEZE!"

I ducked into a room and locked the door. I ran to the window and tried to pull the boards off, frantically looking for a way out. The door burst open, and Batman filled the doorway. He didn't say anything but came closer. I pulled the detonator out of my sling.

"Stop! I'll do it!"

He stopped mid-step.

"You don't want to do this Kay. There's a lot of people in this building."

"I'm not going to jail."

"If you help me, I'll help you," he growled.

"You tried that before, remember? I haven't changed my mind. If you don't back up, we're all going to die."

I watched his hands move to his belt.

"Don't do it," I said. "Just go."

He started to back up when a police officer came through the doorway and pointed his gun at me.

"NO!" Batman yelled.

A shot fired, and I activated the detonator. I heard a powerful explosion and fire shot up through the stairwell within a fraction of a second. Batman rapidly approached and wrapped his arms around me, tackling and turning me towards the explosion. I saw the fire enter the room as his back pushed through the barricade, breaking the boards and glass on the windows. We dropped towards the ground while the fire burst through the window.

* * *

I awoke to a series of annoying beeps and buzzing noises. There was a tight pressure wrapping tighter and tighter around my arm and slowly releasing in pulses. When I opened my eyes, I saw my mother sitting in a chair and staring upwards. Her hand covered her mouth as if she were frightened.

"Mom?"

"Oh, jesus, Kaylin."

She stood and bent down to hug me.

"Your father and I thought something horrible happened to you."

_Technically, something terrible did happen to me._

Once she stood up straight again, I looked at her face. She looked exhausted, and much older than the last time I saw her. I started to cry.

"I'm sorry Mom. I couldn't…"

"Couldn't what?" My father said as he approached.

"I just…"

"You need to explain. The cops are waiting to talk to you," he said sternly.

I could see that he was upset. I guess I couldn't blame him.

"You need to tell them that that _horrible _man put you up to it," my mom said as she pointed towards a television mounted to the wall.

The Joker's face was shown on the screen, followed by my own.

"Shit."

I sat forward and prepared myself to get up. I was handcuffed to a hospital bed.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Kay, honey. You need to talk to the police."

"I can't!" I exclaimed frantically.

My father bent down to get to eyelevel with me.

"Kay, if you don't do this, you _will _go to jail. For a very long time."

I sat back again and stared down at my hands. There was small burns and cuts all over my fingers, and my arm was now properly wrapped in a medical sling. He went back to the door and opened it.

"She's ready."

"No! For fuck's sake Dad, I just woke up!"

A man with glasses and a moustache entered, followed by a uniformed police officer.

"Kay, my name is Lieutenant Gordan. You can call me Jim. This is officer Cash."

"We'll step out," my father said as he took my mother's hand and left.

Jim turned back towards me.

"I need to ask you some questions. I know that you're scared, but you're doing the right thing."

I continued to look down at my battered hands.

"Do you know why he kidnapped you?"

"No," I lied.

He looked back at Officer Cash, who handed Jim a file folder. He opened it and flipped through the papers inside.

"We got a tip that you were setting off explosives for a, um..Herman? And he's now deceased?"

My lips trembled and I began to sob.

"Please Kay. This is a dangerous man," He said as he touched my hand. "We need to get him off the streets."

I pulled my hand away quickly.

"I can't tell you anything."

"We won't let him get to you. You'll be safe, I promise."

"Why don't you ask Ben?"

"Ben died in the explosion, Kay. Along with two other unidentified men and five police officers. If you don't tell us what we need to know, you'll be charged with their murders."

This was a nightmare. Hearing those words come out of the detective's mouth made me instantly hate the Joker. But I was also still very afraid of him, and it was that fear that kept me from telling them the whole story.

I sniffed, "You're just going to have to charge me then, detective. Because if I tell you anything, he'll do worse than any prison would do."

The tears made me aware of the abrasions on my face as they began to burn and sting.

"Alright," he nodded. "Your doctor said that you're going to be discharged tomorrow. Once that happens, you'll be taken into custody."

He looked like he wanted to say more, but only said his goodbyes and went out into the hallway.

I yanked at the handcuffs attached to the bed railing, but I couldn't see away to free myself.

"What the hell were you thinking!?" My father bellowed as he burst back through the door.

"Leonard!" My mother called after him.

"She's…she's just got a lot of drugs in her. We'll call the police back later and you can tell them everything."

He was in denial.

"Dad. You don't get it. If I say anything, he _will_ kill me."

"No, Kay. He can't. He wouldn't get to you, not if he's locked up. Please! Tell them what happened to you!"

I stared into my lap and stayed quiet. He picked up the chair and threw it at the wall, cracking the television down the middle.

"You're protecting that sick fuck!" He screamed at me.

My mother began to wail in the corner, prompting a nurse to come in.

"Sir! You need to leave, now! Before I call security."

"Don't fuck up your life, Kay."

"Sir!"

"Not for this…freak!"

There was a harshness in his voice that I'd never heard before, he had never yelled at me like that. It stung more than any open wound.

He and my mother left the room, leaving me alone with the nurse. She checked the monitors that I was attached to.

"Your heart rate and blood pressure are going up. Try to relax."

I pushed my head back into the bed and wiped the tears and snot from my face.

"The doctor would like to have a member of our behavioral health team speak with you before your incarceration. Might help with…things."

"So, if I don't go to Blackgate, I'll go to Arkham. That doesn't sound helpful either way."

She shrugged, "Don't shoot the messenger." She leaned in closer, "But if it were up to me, both you _and_ the clown would be getting the chair."

Her face hardened and she turned to leave the room.

The next morning, the psychiatrist came to see me, and thought me unfit to stand trial. He thought that I was being coerced out of fear (which wasn't totally untrue) and that I would do better in Arkham Asylum for the time being. The police were furious. They wanted me to rot in a cell at the Joker's side. The officers that were stationed outside of my hospital room would often whisper to each other and look back at me through the window in the door.

Around eleven am, they came through the door.

"Harvey Dent is here. He's wondering if he can come in and talk to you."

"I guess?"

He shook hands with the officer and came into the room, trying too hard to look confident. Dent was clean cut and egotistical. I'd heard many women compliment his looks, but I could never get past the large cleft in his chin.

"Hello, Ms. Bennet. Harvey Dent."

He presented his hand for me to shake it, but I lifted my hands to show that I was attached with one and injured in the other. He cleared his throat and took it back.

"I want to help you."

"But in order to help me, I have to help you? Yeah, I've heard that a lot lately. The cops were already here."

"The cops can't pull any strings. I can ensure your freedom."

"Like I told the detective, I can't say anything."

"All I need is a name and a location."

"Pffft! There is no name, and there is no location."

"Surely, his name isn't 'Joker'."

"That assumption is probably correct, but I don't know what it is."

"How do you spend so much time with someone and not know their name?"

"We didn't spend our time getting close and personal."

He raised his eyebrows at me.

"Oh, fuck off. I'm getting so tired of everyone accusing me of shacking up with the guy."

"Stockholm Syndrome?"

I shook my head, "No. _Nothing_."

"Is there anything you _do _know about him?"

"Yeah, if I say anything about what happened, he'll saw my head off. That's a fact that you can rely on."

Dent sighed and rubbed his chin.

"What if I could get you out of the city?"

He caught my attention.

"Maybe go back with your folks?"

My face must have been too readable.

The door opened, and the police approached with a nurse.

"Alright Kay, time to go."

"Wait, I'm not done," Dent said.

"You can visit her in Arkham."

Dent turned back towards me.

"I'll come, and you can tell me then, okay?"

The nurse stuck a syringe in a small bottle and came towards me with the filled needle.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"The ambulance requested that you be sedated before they transport you. They don't feel comfortable moving someone like you without it."

The officer unlatched my hand from the bedrail.

"Stay still, don't cause more trouble for yourself."

I laid back and waited for the nurse to stick me, once it was over, I felt a warm comforting sensation fill me from head to toe. My vision was hazy, but I was able to make out the EMT's enter the room with a gurney. They wore black jackets and pants, and their heads and faces were covered to protect them from the cold weather outside. They moved me over to the gurney and the officer attached my handcuffs to the rail.

The ceiling tiles above blurred and whizzed by overhead. Inside of the elevator, I heard hushed voices talking about me. Their accusing eyes stared down at me and their heads turned in disappointment. The tallest of the two covered me up with a blanket before we got outside. It was frigid.

There was a swarm of news reporters that began to crowd around the gurney like vultures. I pushed my face into the blanket to hide from them. Their questions sounded like loud echoes in a subway tunnel. I'm not sure I would have answered, even if they were coherent. I was loaded headfirst into the ambulance. My eyes felt heavy and my head began to spin, I was ready to go to sleep.

The tall medic stood over me and placed a hand on my head. His thumb forced my eyelids back open. He pulled the fleece covering away from his face, revealing shiny pink scars that burst from each side of his mouth.

"Go to sleep Kay," his voice quivered.


	10. Chapter 10

_Little angel go away_

_Come again some other day_

_The devil has my ear today_

_I'll never hear a word you say_

_He promised I would find a little solace_

_And some peace of mind_

_Whatever, just as long as I don't feel so…_

I heard the same portion of a song play over and over in my head during my forced slumber. A song I used to sing, whose lyrics used to hold little to no personal value to me. They seemed like a far away memory, from a different life before I was reincarnated. My voice quietly mumbled along with the tune as I writhed and twitched. The sedative was beginning to wear off. The tune slowly wore away with it and was dismissed by televised voices engulfed by static. Even closer, was a tittering giggle surrounded by low mumbles.

My legs stung from the ice-cold temperature of the room as I pulled them up towards my chest. Somewhere below me, there was a blazing bright blue light shining into my eyes. I slowly opened them and attempted to blink the anesthesia away. The Joker appeared as a blurry outline sitting on the end of the gurney, which I was still laying on. His back was facing towards me, and he stared at a television in front of him. The television produced the only light in the room, producing the bright blue light. The rest of the room was very dark.

To my side, I could see the handcuffs dangling from the railing of the gurney. My torso was wrapped in the blanket that had covered my head on the way out of the hospital, and I was still wearing the gown that was provided to me during my admission.

I began to sit up, causing the gurney to creak and jostle slightly. The movement caught his attention, and as he turned to look, his greasy green locks floated in the space surrounding his head.

"Well hello there."

I groaned and held my head in my hand. "Where are we?" I asked sleepily.

"Everywhere, and nowhere," he replied as he waved his hands apart from each other in the space in front of him.

I pulled the hospital gown down over my knees and tried to wrap it under my feet.

"It's freezing in here."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," he said with just a hint of sarcasm.

I reached down under the bed and blindly searched for the latch that would lower the railing. There was no way I was going to scoot down towards him. Once I dropped the rail, I threw my legs over the side of the gurney and shakily stood at the side. I immediately felt the cold bite at my back where the gown opened. I quickly reached to hold the loose ends together.

He started to titter. "I never took you for a briefs kind of gal."

I shot him a look and turned to face him, so he'd stop judging my choice of underwear.

"Did the hospital give you a bag with clothes in it?" I asked.

He licked at his lips and pointed off into a corner of the room. Using the light from the television, I could make out a small plastic bag propped up against the wall. I hurriedly opened it and took out my pants. When I got a leg in, I immediately noticed something was wrong. I didn't feel the warmth I was expecting. I looked down to see that they were cut all the way up the legs.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

I dropped them and kicked them into the corner out of frustration. The rest of my clothing was cut in the same fashion, no doubt by the hospital so they could get them off of me quickly. Everything else that I owned that wasn't in my badly fire damaged apartment was in the building I blew up. I leaned against the wall and sighed heavily.

After observing my dissatisfaction, the Joker stood up from where he was seated. He flipped a switch on the wall and approached me. I squinted my eyes and rubbed them to aid with the harsh light contrast. His long, purple coat was draped over a chair near one of the walls. He picked it up and tossed it to me.

"Don't go through the pockets."

_Beggars can't be choosers._

I wasn't looking forward to wearing the disgusting thing, but I also didn't want to run around with my backside exposed. I placed it over my shoulders and held the front closed with my hands. It was much, much heavier than it looked. The bright orange satin lining was smooth and warm against my back and arms. I kept my face away from the lapels to avoid the various smells coming off of it.

He pulled out the chair the coat was previously resting on and sat down. There were two more similar chairs next to him, placed around a round wooden table. I looked around the room. The floors and walls were all wooden. There was a small kitchenette with a miniature refrigerator in the opposite corner next to the front door. Near the television on the other side of the room, there was a narrow wooden door with a bronze knob.

"Take a seat," he said, pulling out the chair next to him.

When I approached the table, he reached into one of the coat's pockets and pulled out a pack of smokes and a lighter. He placed one of the cigarettes in his mouth and held the pack out so I could take one.

"You know," he began as a long expel of smoke billowed from his mouth and nose. "I expected you to blow the place up, but I _didn't _expect you to do it with everyone inside."

I took a long, concentrated drag and focused my eyes on the table.

"Batman….I warned him."

He leaned in closer. "You did exactly what I needed you to, exactly when I needed it," his voice made an odd crescendo. "And there's so much more to do. I think that you and I are destined for Gotham. To take Gotham. This is _our_ city."

It was his city, but I savored his words and ate them up regardless. I was just his aide. An aide for his amusement, and for his anger. I had made it easy for him.

I looked him in the eyes, something some would consider to be a death sentence.

"How do you take an _entire _city?"

He looked at me as if I were a small child asking about Santa Claus. I nearly expected him to pat me on the head.

"Easy. We start at the top and work our way down."

I thought for a moment while I flicked ashes onto the floor. "You mean Herman, Falcone, Chechen, Gambol…all those guys?"

"Pre-cise-ly. They're the ones calling the shots…for now."

"We can't kill all of them...can we?"  
"We don't need to. Herman was collateral damage, but I'm changing strategies."

"So you want them to work for you?"

He smiled and raised his eyebrows.

"Those guys are super pissed at us right now, and it's only going to get worse. There's no way they would agree to drop their shit and join you."

"It's all a means to an end, Kay. Trust me."

I wasn't sure I did trust him. It was in his best interest that I did, but I still had my concerns. To avoid talking about trust, I changed the subject.

"Did you know Ben was a cop?"

He flicked his cigarette and lowered his eyelids.

"I had my…suspicions."

"Is that why you had me rig the building?"

"Like I said, the building was insurance. Gotta plan for all the variables."

"And I suppose you planned for a giant humanoid amphibian to nearly tear my arm off?"

He narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together. "You sure have a lot of questions this evening."

"I just…these last few days have been…"

He made an annoyed grunt, "You're not going to start crying, are you?"

I cracked a smile and laughed through my nose. "No, I'm not going to cry. I guess I'm just trying to make sense of it all."

"Not everything needs to make sense. Not everything needs to have a definite rhyme or reason. Chaos…is the spice of life. What fun would it be without it? You need to learn to roll with the punches."

I looked down at the emblazoned orange tip of my cigarette, "Chaos is exhausting."

"You'll see, Kay. I'll show you how fun it can be."

_You haven't got me convinced so far._

I snubbed the cigarette out on the table in front of me and crossed my legs. Outside, I could hear the wind blowing and tree branches scraping against the windows. Over my shoulder, I could see that our faces were still displayed on the news. Below our names (or aliases) was a number to call in case anyone had seen us. The Joker's photo was one of him donning his makeup, green hair, and purple suit. Sitting in front of me, he wore no makeup and his hair was its natural shade of light brown. He could easily blend into public as long as no one paid close attention. My photo looked exactly like me; I couldn't hide as easily.

"Are we laying low, or?"

"Laying low?" He scoffed. "No, no. We're just waiting for an opportune moment."

I continued to give him a perplexed look. He reached forward and squeezed my face between his fingers.

"You'll know it when it comes. In the meantime, we'll need to recruit again."

"Agreed," I said through my squished cheeks. "But I'd like to get some actual clothes before that happens."

He unclenched my face as he nodded in agreement and leaned back in his chair.

* * *

"Kay! It's so nice to hear from you! How has your first week been, honey?"

"Great mom. I'm really enjoying it out here."

I adjusted the screen of my laptop so I could get a better look at my folks staring back at me.

"What's the city like?" Dad asked.

"It's _huge! _But I really like it so far. There's so much to do. The crime rate is absolutely insane though."

"Perfect! You have plenty of people to defend once you graduate."

I laughed, "I don't know if I could live with defending these kinds of people. Besides, I think I want to go into medical malpractice. I heard that the city's morgue takes on students, I figured it could give me a leg up."

"You know what they do in morgues, right?" Mom asked.

"Yes mother, I'm aware."

Dad looked at his watch.

"Your mom and I have a reservation at six. We gotta get going. Make sure you call us next week."

"I will, have fun."

"We're very proud of you, Kaylin. Love you!"

"Love you too."

* * *

In the morning, he was gone. Nothing unusual, but I felt somewhat awkward waking up alone in a place I wasn't very familiar with. I opened the narrow door on the opposite side of the room and found a small bathroom inside. Thankfully, the water functioned properly, and I was able to wash my face.

Back in the living area, I pulled back the thick, heavy curtains from the window and peeked through. The small house stood in the middle of a heavily wooded area. On the ground outside, I could make out tire tracks in the mud leading away and deeper into the woods. There was a front porch underneath the window that seemed to wrap around to either side.

My stomach began to grumble and ache. I realized that I probably hadn't eaten in at least a day. I walked over to the kitchenette and opened the fridge. Inside was a bottle of some un-labeled alcohol, a pack of cigarettes, a small carton of milk, and, for whatever reason, a grenade. I sighed and disappointingly closed the door.

The television in the middle of the room was still tuned into the local news station. The Joker wanted to know exactly what was going on out there, exactly when it happened. I pulled one of the chairs away from the table and sat it in front of the tv. There wasn't much else to do in the place, unless you wanted to get drunk or escalate your risk for developing lung cancer. There was an interview between GCN's Mike Engel and the detective that I'd met – Jim Gordon.

"So what do you know about the Joker detective Gordon?"

"Well, not much. But we are being vigilant and doing everything in our power to make sure he's taken into custody."

"What can you tell us about the interception of Kaylin Bennet's incarceration into Arkham?"

"At this time, I cannot comment on Ms. Bennet's status or whether or not she was involved in her own kidnapping. We are working closely with her parents to ensure she is brought back safely."

I wished I could call these people and tell them the truth about everything. Being analyzed on live television was infuriating when you couldn't defend yourself.

The front door opened, and the Joker walked in carrying two plastic bags. He dropped one of them into my lap and took the other to the table. Inside the plastic bag was a change of clothes – jacket, jeans, shoes, shirt, bra, and underwear. They weren't the most stylish clothes, and I'm pretty sure most of it was from the men's section, but it beat wearing a hospital gown in the cold.

"Thanks," I said

He grunted waved his hand in a "shooing" motion in response.

I went into the restroom and quickly changed. Before I pushed my head through the shirt, I unstrapped the sling from around my arm. I rotated my shoulder a few times to see if I'd be able to manage without the sling, it was still sore, but manageable. I set his purple coat on the table and sat down next to him. From the other plastic bag, he pulled out a couple of lighters, lighter fluid, a few small bottles of bleach, ammonia, a box of plastic forks, and a package of pink coconut snack cakes. He pushed the box of forks towards me.

"Start breaking the prongs off."

I did as I was told and opened the box. As I began to break the plastic apart, he broke into the cakes and shoved one into his mouth. His lips smacked loudly as he chewed.

"What are we doing?" I asked

"Preparing," he replied with a face full of pink cream.

"For what? The science fair?"

He side eyed me and licked his fingers. I knew that he didn't like sharing his plans, but I always asked in hopes that he'd tell me just once, so I didn't end up blindsided or injured.

"We'll be visiting a friend later. Buuut, the police confiscated the gun I graciously gifted to you." He stood up and took the second cake from the package. As he stepped behind me, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and put the cake in my face. I continued to break the forks while I took a bite. "We need to be as prepared as we can."  
"I get it," I said with a mouthful of sugar and coconut. "But, isn't there something more deadly we can get our hands on than a bleach bomb?"

I wasn't particularly savvy to chemical warfare.

"You're not thinking outside the box."

He rested his chin on my shoulder. I could feel the puckered scar tissue on the side of his face rubbing up against my own. The feeling always made me shudder, much like his obsession with invading my personal space.

"You need to shave," I said nervously to break the silence.

He pushed his face into mine to accentuate the sandpaper-y texture surrounding his scar.

"Ugh!"

I pulled away and turned in the chair. He stood up straight and smiled before shoving the rest of the cake in his mouth.

Behind us, the television loudly announced a breaking news story. We both turned towards the screen. I wiped the mess from my mouth and waited for the announcement to continue.

"As a warning to our viewers, what you're about to hear may be disturbing."

The scene changed to a reporter with a microphone in their hand.

"Thank you, Mike. I am standing outside Gotham Police Department, where just moments ago, detectives revealed that they have discovered two bodies that they believe to be the parents of Kaylin Bennet."

My stomach sank as I stood from my chair and went closer to the tv.

"Detective Gordon stated that the bodies were badly mutilated and appeared to have bite marks on their limbs and torsos."

My jaw dropped. I listened to the reporter, but all I could hear was static in my ears. I wrapped my hands around my face and gasped in terror. My chest felt heavy and my eyes welled up. The despair I had experienced in that moment was more extreme than any pain or emotion that had occurred up to that point. The Joker stood next to me, unconcerned by the news.

"_Fuck!"_ I screamed.

The Joker turned the screen off, and my breaths became labored and panicked. He stared at me while I broke down.

"They fed them to that _thing_!"

I began to pace the room and thought aloud.

"I'm going to kill them! _All _of them."

I began to slap the sides of my head with my open palms. The Joker intervened and held my wrists in his hands.

"Give me your gun and your keys," I demanded angrily.

"No. No, you're going to calm down, and then you're going to sit down and finish what I asked you to do."

"They _killed_ my family. I am NOT going to be calm about this!"

"Alll. For. The best."

"_What?" _I fumed.

"Let's think about this a different way, hm? They did you a favor."

I pulled my arms out of his grasp.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"What more can they take from you? What more can they threaten you with?"

I was getting angrier and angrier the more that he spoke.

"You're an absolute monster. And this, is all your fault. You trapped me into this bullshit, you made me play your game. They know they can't get to you, so they're coming after me. I have done everything you've ever asked of me, but I keep on losing. Nothing bad ever happens to you. You're never hurting, you never lost anything throughout this whole stupid fucking ordeal."

An ugly closed throat giggle erupted from him.

"Shut up!"

He continued.

"SHUT UP!"

I drew my fist back and punched him in the nose. In my blind rage, I picked up the chair that I had placed in front of the television and threw it at him. While he staggered, I rushed to his purple coat and found his gun. As I pointed it at him, he stood and wiped the blood from his nose.

"What do you think you're doing Kay?"

"Ending this. I'm leaving. But before I do, I want my money."

A loud cackle burst from his mouth. He put his hands up and began to slowly step closer towards me. I managed as best I could to keep a space between us.

"Silly me, I thought you forgot all about it," he laughed.

"Why do you think I stuck around? I've had plenty of chances to leave."

"Regardless, you're not getting it."

My eyes grew wide and my anger grew white-hot.

"What the fuck do you mean I'm not getting it? I finished multiple jobs for you, and I even _saved_ you. I put up with your constant monologues telling me, '_give into the chaos, Kay," _I said as I mockingly waved my free hand and nasally imitated his voice.

His face turned up into a sneer. I was starting to piss him off.

"I told you, half after your first job was completed and half after you prove you can be trusted. The first job I gave you was the morgue, and last time I checked, the morgue is still standing. Secondly, I don't trust anyone."

My jaw dropped. He had me on technicalities. I realized that he never intended to pay up.

I let out a frustrated scream and pulled the trigger. It made a disappointing _click – _it was empty. He quickly ran towards me. I threw the gun at his head and rushed towards the door. He put up his arm to block the gun from striking him and continued his pursuit. I had my hand on the doorknob and twisted; he grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head back as he placed another arm around my waist and lifted me. He turned me around and threw me to the floor. I quickly got back up and went back for more.

I bent forward and tackled him to the ground; he hit his head on the tv. We struggled against one another as we rolled on the floor. He punched me, and I punched him. The blood from our mouths mixed on the floor as we let our exasperated gasps in between hits. I straddled him and kept hitting while he choked me. He could have made me black out for all I cared. Hitting him felt so good. It felt deserved. It was the release I had needed.

I sternal rubbed him so he'd let go, and I pulled away. I pressed my back against the opposite wall and sat down on the floor. I looked down at my shirt and saw that I was soaked in blood. The whole ordeal was over nearly as quickly as it began, but we did plenty of damage to one another. I panted and felt the drips from my nose pour into my mouth. I felt the tears from my eyes split through the red streaks on my face.

He slowly rolled over and pushed himself off the floor. He wheezed momentarily before snorting and spitting out a large clot of blood and snot. Without saying a word, he sat down next to me against the wall. I stared at the dark red puddles on the floor and felt my face throb. My eye was beginning to swell. He put two cigarettes in his mouth and lit them. After inhaling once, he handed me one of them with his bloodied hand. I may not have received my money that day, or any comfort after learning that I was now alone in the world, but I did gain some of his respect. A very microscopic amount, but respect, nonetheless.

We each silently dragged and exhaled, occasionally breaking into the quiet with sniffles or coughs. Outside, I heard the rain start up again with thunder in the distance. After about forty-five minutes of quiet contemplation, he finally turned his head to me.

"I don't sound like that."

I closed my eyes and started to laugh through my tears.

"Yes, you do."

He placed an arm around my shoulder, and I rested my head on him. Our relationship, partnership, whatever you wanted to call it, was starting to get weirder.


	11. Chapter 11

He had, somehow, acquired a vehicle. It was an old, silver, beat up Chrysler that was falling apart at the seams. It was missing all but one hub cap, and the back bumper was ready to fall off if the wind blew the right way. When it turned over, it screeched and wailed as if it were begging to be put out of its misery.

"Listen to that baby purr!"

I sat in the passenger's seat and rolled my eyes. He put it into drive, and we lurched forward towards an opening in the trees. While we crept through the forest, I pulled down the sun visor to stare at myself in the mirror. I was an absolute mess – one of my eyes was black and swollen, there were small abrasions around my nose, and my lips were cracked and bleeding. The Joker didn't look much better, but he can hit much harder than I've ever been capable of. That, and he had applied his "war paint" before we left, so the majority of the injuries I had inflicted on him were covered. I sighed and let the visor slap against the roof of the car.

"Something bothering you?"

"My face looks terrible."

He took his eyes off the road to raise an eyebrow at me.

"Could be worse," he said.

"Ho-….never mind."

I crossed my arms and slumped down in my seat. He has a strange way of making you feel sorry for him. I knew he hadn't been born a facially impaired anarchist; someone had failed him in a huge way at some point. But then he begins to speak and act out another one of his many schemes, and my empathy leaves almost as soon as it arises.

The trip to the edge of the woods took us on a winding trail that made the car bump and jostle. The Joker's elongated palms sat at ten and two on the steering wheel, and he stared intensely at the road in front of him. After a moment, his face lit up as if he'd suddenly remembered something important. He reached into the back seat to pull a duffel bag into the front and set it in my lap.

"Make sure everything is loaded."

"I thought all of the guns were gone?"

He shrugged, "I lied."

_Shocking._

I pinched the zipper between my index finger and thumb and pulled it open. In the bag, there was two shotguns, several handguns, and many boxes of ammunition to go along with them. I loaded the handguns' magazines and shoved them back up into their designated slots.

"Make sure there's one in the chamber," he reminded me. "Safety off."

I pulled back on the slide and loaded a bullet into the barrel of the gun. I repeated this with the remainder of the guns in the bag and carefully placed them back inside. I placed the bag down on the floor in front the passenger's seat and pulled my legs up underneath me. I hoped that it wouldn't be necessary to use the guns, but I definitely felt safer with them around.

Once we reached the main road outside of the woods, the rain came down in full force as we no longer had the cover of the trees. He changed the speed of the windshield wipers, which were quickly squeaking back and forth across the glass. I reached over and turned on the radio to cover up the noise. It had been tuned to a rock station and _Don't Fear the Reaper_ blared into the cabin over the blown out speakers. Occasionally, I'd hear him absently humming along to the tune.

I'd approximated that we were about twenty minutes outside of the downtown area. I craned my neck upwards to look at the tall skyscrapers peppered throughout the city. Gotham had essentially trapped me in its confines, but I did feel at home there. As the sidewalks and shops zoomed past our windows, I'd imagined myself once again walking up and down the block spending the disposable income that Herman provided me with. It felt funny to fantasize about getting ahold of a bra that offered some actual support.

The car abruptly came to a stop at a red light, and the momentum forced me forward. I placed my hands on the door and center console and looked over at the Joker.

"What? It came out of nowhere," he snickered.

I sighed and looked back out the window to admire the view. Next to us, there was a man on a red sporty-looking motorcycle with the branding _Augusta _stickered towards the bottom. He was staring down into the car at the boss and I. I looked away for a moment, hoping that it was just an odd coincidence that we had caught each other's eye. I looked back again - he was still looking. The light was getting ready to change, and I didn't know what else to do, so I stuck my tongue out at him. As we pulled away from the light, I kept an eye on the bike from the side mirror. It slowed its pace and got behind us.

"What's he doing?" the Joker asked.

"It looks like he's following us."

He checked the rear-view and pressed down on the gas pedal.

"Hold on."

I braced myself as he suddenly turned us into an alleyway. The tires screeched and slid across the wet pavement. The car sped down the alley, casting aside garbage cans and trash bags along its path. We came out on the other side of the back street, and he chose another one to escape into. He backed into the alley and we waited until the red bike passed in front of us.

"Who the hell was that?" I asked.

"Doesn't matter. We have more important things to worry about."

He slowly moved the car forward and smoothly joined the traffic. I kept an eye on the vehicles around us while he focused on the road. We passed over the bridge that connects to midtown without incident. Below us, I saw that small patches of ice were beginning to form over the top of Gotham River. Eventually, the car would come to a complete stop on the curb next to a very familiar looking building near the Narrows.

"Oh, no. No. I'm not going in there," I said nervously as I slumped down further into my seat.

"We're having a friend-ly get together. To clear the air."

"Falcone knows we're coming?"

I sat up and looked at him.

"It's Maroni now."

"What happened to Carmine?"

"The Bat."

I shook my head. "They're going to kill me."

"Hmph! You need to stop worrying so much." He reached out and placed his hand on my face. "I'm not saying I'll…protect you, buuut you _should_ have a little more faith in me."

"I have faith that you'll save your own ass."

"No, no, no. I still _need_ you. You haven't outlived your usefulness…yet."

I scrunched up my face. "Hooray for me?"

He flicked my nose and reached down for the bag; he handed me one of the handguns.

"Don't lose this one."

I placed the gun in my jacket pocket and opened the car door. I stood on the curb and stared up at the building while I waited for him to come around. Falcone had plenty of fancy lounges and clubs within Gotham. This locale was one of the places they used for their shady business practices – and it showed. The outside displayed many broken windows and dirty brickwork. Its appearance was similar to the previous building we stayed in.

The men standing in front of the door stared at me accusingly; they were still angry about one of the other buildings getting blown up. I felt like we were there to tear off the band-aid and re-open new wounds. The Joker put his hand on my arm and ushered me towards the door. Once inside, we were met by one of Falcone's bodyguards who led us down a long, dimly lit hallway. Behind us, another bodyguard followed close behind the Joker and wouldn't take his eyes off him.

The guard in front opened the door at the end of the hallway and held it until we passed through. Up ahead, there was a large room with catwalks surrounding the upper floors. In front of us stood Salvatore Maroni with two more large men, and up on the catwalks were more intimidating looking figures holding guns and looking down at us. Sal approached and reached his hand out to me.

"Kay. Long time no see."

I placed my hand in his and he lightly shook. He moved on to greet the Joker but did not offer his hand. Instead, Sal narrowed his eyes at him.

"You must be the Joker."

The boss smiled at Sal and licked his lips. "How'd you guess?"

I twisted my mouth to stop myself from laughing. I'd met Sal Maroni on two occasions previously; he didn't leave a great impression on me. He was an adulterer, and a smug one at that. He wore expensive suits that he seemed to have doused with gallons upon gallons of cologne. The scent was so poignant that it had tempted me to stick my face into the Joker's coat to escape it.

"Shall we?" Sal said as he held an arm out towards table in the center of the room.

He pulled out a chair for me and pushed me in towards the table before sitting across from us. The Joker saw and rolled his eyes as he secured his own seating. The Italian mob, as ruthless as they were, had always treated me with hospitality – a vast contrast between them and the Joker.

Sal smiled and turned to me, "Kay, what are you doing with this clown?"

I looked back at him and turned up one side of my mouth.

"He makes me laugh," I shrugged.

The boss giggled next to me.

"Carmine thought very highly of you, and I know he made you a pretty hefty offer."

"What can I say? I'm loyal to a fault."

"Don't be stupid, kid. I'll double his offer, set you up with a nice place to live."

I laughed through my nose, "I know my…boss, here, didn't set up this meeting in order to arrange a change of employment."

The Joker continued to giggle and began to bounce excitedly in his chair.

Sal nodded. "I suppose you're right," he began as he turned to bossman. "How am I being reimbursed for the building you demolished?"

The Joker cleared his throat, "Well, I uh, seem to have forgotten my checkbook. Do you take card houses?"

I covered my lips with the crook of my index finger and turned away so Salvatore wouldn't see me laughing. He was beginning to lose his patience with us regardless.

"Cute," Sal said while he shook his head at us. "I've got an idea. How about you deal for me, and in return, I won't have my boys mow you down. And Kay, my offer still stands. But if you refuse, it's off the table."

I looked to the Joker for guidance, I didn't know what his plan was, but I assumed he knew what he was doing before we arrived.

"Well, Sally, I've a better idea. How about your boys, up here," the Joker said as he waved his index finger toward the men on the catwalks. "start working for me. I'll take _this _place off your hands, and you…just leave."

Sal smirked and shook his head.

"Is this some sort of joke to you?"

_That's a dumb question._

"Oh, no, actually, the joke was when I said I was coming to negotiate. This is completely serious."

"Yeah? What was your plan? That you were just going to take what you wanted from me and go about your day?"

The Joker nodded, "yeah."

"You planned poorly," Sal said as he signaled for his men to take aim at us. Nothing happened.

"Did I though?"

A smug, shit-eating grin spread across the boss's face as he stood from his chair and placed his palms flat on the table. Above us, on the catwalks, about twenty guns cocked simultaneously and pointed down at Sal and his bodyguards. He looked up at all the men who had just betrayed him and slowly closed his eyes.

"I guess you did your homework after all," he said before addressing me. "Don't say I didn't warn you, Kay."

He stood and began to leave the building with his two remaining bodyguards.

"Nice doing business with you Sally!" The Joker called after him.

I remained sitting at the table with my mouth hanging open, I was gob smacked. Once the door slammed shut, I looked to him.

"How the _hell_ did you do that?"

He licked his lips and peered down at me.

"Very. Carefully."

He pulled himself on top of the table and raised his arm above his head.

"Gentlemen! Gather around so we can lay some ground rules."

They all walked down the stairs like a large group of dutiful soldiers. He had to have been putting this together for a long time. It was both awe-inspiring and terrifying to watch. How did a man in clown make up convince a bunch of grown men to leave their current employer? And when did he set all of it into motion?

I remained seated at the table while a group of perfect strangers surrounded. The Joker looked so pleased with himself, I thought his newly inflated ego might cause him to explode. The table creaked underneath his weight that shifted back in forth in anticipation of performing one of his favorite pastimes - monologuing.

"Welcome to…the end of _civilized _Gotham as we know it. There is only one thing you need to know to succeed here: you don't know _anything."_

He looked around the room.

"Any questions?"

The room was quiet. This group seemed more intelligent than the previous ones.

In this moment, I was fairly disgusted with myself. The admiration I felt for him was immense; he had done this with no money, and almost no reputation. He was going to terrorize the city; it was going to be his _Magnum Opus. _And I was suddenly delighted to be along for the ride. I gazed up at him in awe and amazement, but once I realized where my mind was drifting, I shook my head to remove the ideas and come back down to Earth.

_Don't, Kay. Focus on leaving. He's got all these other people to do what he wants; he won't need you._

"Oh, almost forgot." he reached his hand down to me.

I hesitantly took it, and he hoisted me up next to him on the tabletop. He put an arm around my shoulders.

"Thiiis. Is Kay. She is, for lack of a better phrase, my right hand. What does this mean for you? No eyes, no fingers. Or, you _lose_ your eyes and fingers."

I appreciated his attempt to avoid another repeat of the Dennis debacle. I wasn't sure if it would actually work, but it was a welcomed gesture. And whether it was to shield me or the goons, I wasn't quite sure.

"Anything to add?" He asked me.

I scanned over the group and sighed.

"No," I said quietly.

"Well then, why don't we celebrate? Kick back, take the night off."

There was a small cheer from the group, and they began to push more tables together with the one we were standing on. Some were appointed to be lookouts, while the rest placed their guns against one of the walls.

The Joker pulled me in and lowered his head to speak to me; I felt his breath in my ear.

"Relax. Mingle a bit."

Some members of the group located and broke into Maroni's booze cabinet and began to set the various bottles of liquor on the tables. The Joker reached down and picked an expensive looking bottle of champagne.

"I'll even buy you a drink."

I smiled and rolled my eyes at him. He shook up the bottle and popped the cork, causing the liquid to shoot up into the air and drop down on top of us. Through my champagne-soaked tresses, I watched him knock back the bottle and take a large gulp. He smiled down at me and handed off the bottle. I mirrored his actions and took a drink from the bottle; before I could lower it, he placed his hand on the base and pushed it up so I'd keep going. I choked and spit the bubbling liquid out through my mouth and nose.

While I wiped my face with my sleeve, he cackled and jumped down from the table. He set up camp underneath one of the staircases, smoked, and worked in his notebook. Anyone who approached and attempted to get on his good side was shooed away in favor of his vices. There were plenty of rooms to sit and work in without being disturbed, but I assumed that he wanted to keep an eye on things.

I came down from the table once the area became too crowded for my liking. I was curious as to what I would find in the various rooms above, and it would be information that the boss would find useful as well. I didn't acknowledge him as I climbed the stairs, but I could see him carefully observing me as I went up. On the second floor, many of the doors led to empty rooms, or rooms full of old furniture covered with dusty sheets. There was a room full of various weapons – guns, knives, swords, grenades, and a large case that contained a rocket launcher.

The third floor contained many rooms with bunk beds and bathrooms. The very last room after the beds contained chains bolted to floor and walls, and a chair with restraints. I shuddered and quickly closed the door before moving up to the final floor.

There were only two rooms, and another door that lead up to the roof. I opened the first door and was pleased to see a room that greatly resembled a suite in a five-star hotel. There was a sitting area, a dining room, and kitchen. The furniture was adorned with dark colored woods and black leather. To the left side of the room was a set of double doors that led into a bedroom with a large bed, walk in closet, and bathroom. The bathroom was giant, it had a large shower surrounded by glass and a huge hot tub set into the corner. It seemed so ridiculous that a building this run down and desolate looking on the outside held an apartment like this on the inside. I considered leaving this room out of my report back to the boss, but he would have found it eventually.

The door to the last room on the floor was already cracked, suggesting that someone had been there recently. It swung open and smacked against the wall behind it. Its contents made it look similar to a thrift store – there was luggage, and various piles of clothing. There were tables that had many emptied wallets and purses sitting on top.

"What is all this?" I whispered to myself.

I walked further into the room and ran my hands over the items on the tables. My fingers stopped on a smooth surface and looked down to see multiple driver's licenses laying there. I picked one up and read the person's name, it had belonged to someone that was reported missing a few months ago. This alone made me realize that this room was for. It was dedicated to holding the items of the people they'd disposed of.

On an adjacent table, something caught my eye. There was a small glimmer coming from a large Ziplock bag propped up on top of a pile of other bags. I picked up the bag and turned it around in my hands to get a better look at what was inside. A familiar looking heart-shaped locket peeked out from under a brown leather wallet. I tore open the bag and retrieved the necklace; the inside of the locket displayed photos of my parents. I ran the tip of my thumb over the photos and sat down on the floor.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm _so _sorry."

I never really received the time I needed to process and accept their deaths. The three of us had unfortunately grown apart after my departure to Gotham, but I thought about them all the time. You're supposed to watch your parents grow old and pass naturally in their old age, not get them killed because of your own stupid life choices.

I put the necklace on and stuffed it down into my shirt so no one would see the chain and pendant. Also contained inside the bag was my father's wallet with a thousand dollar's cash inside. It felt as if I was grave robbing, but if I didn't take it, someone else would have. I rolled up the bills and shoved them into my bra. I stood up and placed the bag and its remaining items back onto the table. Behind me, I heard the floor creak. I quickly turned around to see who had been watching me. Of course, it was the boss.

"What did we find?"

I wiped my eyes and shook my head. He gradually approached and moved me to one side to pick up the bag and look inside the wallet. While he was looking, I headed towards the door. He reached out and grabbed my arm to stop me. After setting the plastic bag back down on the table, he placed his open hand in front of me and wagged his fingers.

"I want half."

I sighed and looked away.

"Half, or I take all of it."

"I thought you weren't interested in money," I said coolly.

He smirked. "Don't make me get it myself."

I reached into my shirt to get the bills and count out five-hundred dollars. I placed the cash into his hand, but he still held onto me. He squeezed hard as he shoved his newly acquired gains into one of his pockets. Once his hand emerged again, he placed his hand on the back of my neck.

"We're supposed to be a team, Kay," he cooed.

_Yeah, when it's convenient for you._

"I don't apprecia-te secrets."

The hand he placed on my neck gripped angrily.

I winced and whimpered, "Stop. No secrets, I promise."

His other arm released my own and settled itself around my waist. I timidly placed my hands on his chest so I could push him away if I needed to. He softened his downward gaze and kissed me with the same ferocity as he had the first time. I knew that he was being manipulative, but I allowed it in hopes that I could use it against him later on. It could be the difference between getting away or being stuck until my inevitable violent death.

However, I'd be lying if I said I didn't welcome the physical contact. In my loneliness, I'd been craving it. And I thought that, maybe, he had been too, because these encounters seemed so out of the blue. The aggressiveness behind the hold he had on me, and the choreography of our heads bobbing made me forget everything the man had put me through within moments. He picked me up, turned us around, and sat me on top of the table. I was a bundle of incompressible nerves in his arms; I had sudden flashbacks of high school and prom. He pulled back and rested his cheek on my temple.

"Nervous?"

I let out a breath and closed my eyes while he pressed his face into the curve of my neck. His hand crept up the back of my thigh and pulled at the back of my pants.

"Joker!" A voice yelled from outside of the room.

He ignored the voice and continued what he was doing.

"Joker! Batman is in the area!"

The boss let out a frustrated grunt and looked down at me, shaking my face back and forth in his hand before leaving the room. I took in a deep breath, got up from the table, and allowed my pulse to return to baseline. I caught my reflection in a mirror leaning up against the wall next to the door - my face and neck were smeared with red and white face paint. I used the bottom of my shirt to wipe it all away, and I checked my reflection once again to ensure I hadn't left any traces. I ran my fingers through my hair and looked myself in the eyes. I no longer viewed myself as the strong, independent, and intelligent woman I once did. Instead, I saw a zombified stranger with black eyes that no longer had any free will of their own.


	12. Chapter 12

The room that resembled a fancy hotel suite was my sanctuary in the new hideout. The bed was giant and soft, the television got more than two channels, and the shower didn’t spew cold water. I had my feet propped up on top of a coffee table while I lounged on one of the comfy leather couches. I found more books to read and enjoyed sipping on the champagne that Maroni stashed in the room. The Joker had located a few boxes of cigars that he assured me were “top notch.” While he puffed on one of the thick, brown Cubans, he giggled at the scene in _American Psycho_ where Paul Allen is butchered with an axe. I lowered my book and grimaced up at the tv. Before all of this, I really enjoyed the film. Now, I found Hollywood’s depiction of murder to be uninspired and dull. 

“You ever notice that the guy that plays Patrick Bateman sort of looks like Bruce Wayne?”

He cocked his head to the side and took another puff. “I don’t see it.”

There was a knock on the door, followed by a man’s voice calling out to the Joker.

“Come in,” he purred.

One of the new goons, Maurice, poked his head in. “We’re going on a supply run. Do we need anything else?”

The cash tucked between my boobs suddenly felt heavy.

“Actually,” I said. “I’d like to come with.”

The boss turned his attention towards me and licked his lips.

“Any particular reason?”

“So I can get some clothes that aren’t covered in blood,” I said as I pinched my shirt and pulled away from my chest.

He looked down at his own clothing and raised an eyebrow at me. I set the book on top of the coffee table and got up to leave. The Joker stepped on top of one of the couches and vaulted himself over to prevent me from leaving the room.

“Try to keep a low profile,” he said. “Also, pack of smokes and a Kit Kat.”

I’d done what I was told – I kept my hood over my face and sent Maurice to the checkout for me. Luckily, I hadn’t been recognized, but I’m sure this was also because my face was still a little rough looking. The trip afforded me new clothes, boots, hair care products, cosmetics, a couple of knives, and drawing materials. After retrieving the items on the Joker’s shopping list, we trudged through the snow to get back to the car (a large, black SUV that the men who had betrayed Falcone had taken).

The “supply run” portion of the trip wasn’t finished, we were still short on the things that the boss had necessitated to keep operating: gasoline, dynamite, gun powder, guns, and ammunition. I did wonder where we would get these things, as not many people would be savvy to selling these items to a group of clowns. But I didn’t have long to wait to have my curiosities quenched.

During the mid-afternoon, we pulled up to the docks on the lower east side of Gotham. The snow silently and softly drifted down to the ground and stuck to the ice. Upon our approach, I was told to stay in the car while Maurice and another two goons spoke to the supplier.

“Think I’m gonna jinx the deal?” I asked jokingly.

“No,” Maurice said. “You’re too recognizable.” 

The vehicle stopped behind a white van that was parked and running. The driver, passenger, and Maurice loaded their guns and got out. I sat in the backseat and observed the transaction. From the white van, two men came from the driver’s and passenger’s seats. The sliding door of the van opened, and a familiar face emerged: the Chechen. It became clear that the Chechen had no idea who he was doing business with; most of the mob bosses in Gotham were familiar with our eccentric employer at this point. They were all very agitated with the Joker and had all but alienated him. What _was _largely unknown (as I had come to learn) was that the word had not yet spread that the Joker had procured a new team via Maroni’s unfaithfuls.

Due to my previous association with Herman, I had met all of the mob bosses at least once each. The Chechen was the only one that I didn’t have anything bad to say about. He was always well-mannered and was credible (as far as I knew). His thick, Russian accent made him difficult to understand at times, but he was never crude towards my associates or myself. It goes to show that you can deal drugs and not be a complete jackass. It seemed to me that he teetered on the verge of naivety, which would (not unlike the rest of us) be his eventual downfall.

He smoked a cigar and smiled as payment exchanged hands. Maurice handed off a large duffel bag full of cash over to the other van’s passengers.

_The poor idiot doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into._

If I hadn’t been worried about letting the cat out of the bag and letting the Chechen know who he was _really _doing business with, I would have got out of the car and said hello to him. I ducked down in the backseat of the SUV while the back was filled with gas drums and canvas bags that contained the remainder of the supplies. As the last bags were being packed in, I saw the Chechen put his hands around his eyes and peer into the car, staring right at me.

“Who’s in there?” He asked our driver.

“We had to take care of some other business on the way over.”

I immediately placed my hands behind my back and pushed my face into the seat to validate his lie.

“It’s a shame these addicts think we owe them something.”

The driver nodded and closed doors on the SUV.

“Until next time.”

“Till next time, my friend.”

I hid my face while Maurice got back into the seat next to me. Once we were out of sight, I sat back up.

“Does Chechen know who the Joker is?”

“He’s aware that he exists,” the man in the passenger’s seat said. “That’s about it.”

I laughed, “Well, that’s all _we_ know about him.”

The driver eyed me in the rear-view. “You really don’t know anything else about him? Aren’t you his _right hand_?”

I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter. The Joker exists as he is.”

The SUV carefully navigated through the blizzard and back to the safe house. The driver pulled around the back of the building and backed up to a loading dock. I picked up the shopping bags and set them on the dock before going back to help them unload.

“We got this, you can go up,” Maurice said.

“You sure? I don’t mind helping.”

“Yeah, I don’t want the boss to wait for his stuff.”

I shrugged, picked up the bags, and opened the back door. On the fourth floor, I opened the door to the suite and stepped inside. I went into the bedroom to unpack the contents of the bags. After passing through the double doors, I tripped on something in the middle of the floor. I caught myself on the bed post and looked down, it was one of the Joker’s shoes. Beyond that, there was a trail of his clothing that led to the bathroom.

“Boss?” I called out.

“Oh good, you’re back. Come here.”

I looked back down at the clothing on the floor. I made a face before picking up the items he’d requested and walking into the bathroom. He was soaking in the hot tub with his feet propped up on the side. The jets from the tub covered everything below his chest, but I still averted my eyes and edged closer to hand him the candy and smokes. I set them on the side of the tub and turned my back.

“Care to join me? Plenty of room.”

“_Iii’m_ good. Did you need something?”

He opened the Kit Kat and took a bite without breaking apart the individual bars.

_Blasphemy._

“Sit down, Kay.”

I felt behind me for the edge of the tub without making eye contact and sat down. He set the candy bar back down on the edge of the tub and peeked into a pack of smokes with one eye. He crumpled up the empty package and threw it across the room before breaking the seal on the new pack. His hands came together in front of his face to light one and he promptly exhaled as he continued to speak.

“I have a special project for you.”

I rested my elbows on my thighs and clasped my hands together.

“What kind of special project?”

“I want you visit Maroni.”

I turned my head to look at him.

“That’s a terrible idea.”

He pushed his lips together; more smoke expelled from his nose.

“You think,” he began as he ashed the cigarette over the edge of the tub. “that it’s a…terrible idea.”

He nodded slowly and looked back up at me. With the cigarette stuck back between his lips, he reached up with both hands to wrap himself around me and pull me into the tub. My legs rested over the top of the edge I’d just been sitting on and I sat across his naked lap. His other hand grabbed at the back of my head and pulled me under the water. My arms flailed frantically in front of me as I searched for something to take hold of and pull myself back up. Above the water, I saw him emotionlessly watching me struggle. Several seconds later, he finally allowed me to come up for air. I loudly gasped and coughed upon surfacing.

“You were saying?” He asked.

I narrowed my eyes at him and spit out his disgusting bath water.

“Why would you like me to visit him?” I asked exasperated.

“That’s what I thought you said. I must’ve misheard,” he tittered. “You’re going to ask him for help.”

“Help?”

“Tell him that you’re desperately trying to escape. Make it as pathe-_tic_ as you can.”

It wasn’t a complete lie; escaping was a true desire of mine.

He took my face in his hand and turned me towards him.

“You can do that for me, can’t you?” The cigarette dropped from his mouth while he spoke and sizzled as it floated on top of the water.

I slowly nodded, avoiding speaking so I wouldn’t accidentally say the wrong thing.

“Good,” he cooed.

His eyes darted around my face as if he was trying to memorize every detail. He kept one hand behind my neck while the other ran through my wet hair.

“You’re the only one I can rely on, Kay.” 

In hindsight, this moment was so disgustingly emotionally abusive, it would have been clear for anyone to see it. Anyone, but myself, apparently. I’d learned the warning signs numerous times. It was psychology 101, but I was too spineless at the time to do anything about it. I hated him, feared him, and wanted to get away. But, unfortunately, I also wanted his acceptance and his attention.

He pulled my face closer and placed his forehead against my temple.

“Stick by me, and everything will be ours.”

_Yours._

“We. Will. Prevail,” he whispered into my ear.

I felt hypnotized by his words and the deep dark pits that functioned as his eyes. I closed my eyes and looked away before reaching to the edge of the tub to let myself out. As I lifted my leg over the edge, he sat up and yet again wrapped himself around my back. He moved my hair away from the back of my neck and pressed his face in. My face soured and I turned my head away.

“Stop,” I whispered.

His wet hand went up underneath my shirt and slipped over my ribs. I stopped him short of my chest and grabbed onto this hand.

“_Stop!_” I said more desperately.

He let out a frustrated grunt into my ear and released me. He sat back down in the tub and lit another cigarette while I climbed out of the tub, trembling. I hurried out of the bathroom, my feet sliding on the wet tiles as I struggled to keep my balance. Out on the catwalk, I held onto the railing and squatted down. Below, I could see the water dripping from my clothing and onto the floor.

* * *

I carefully descended from the stairs and approached the table in the middle of the room. The obnoxious black pumps that were strapped to my feet clip-clopped against the floor. The noise, and my awkward gait made me look like a newborn giraffe. I wore a tight black dress with no sleeves and heavy makeup. The boss had picked out this overtly sexualized outfit for my meeting with Maroni. If I hadn’t known better, I would have suspected that he was trying to turn a trick.

“Shit,” I said as I looked back up the stairs. “I forgot my jacket.”  
“Leave it,” the boss said.

“It’s cold outside…”

“More reason for him to let you in right away.”

_What an ass._

I sighed, “Okay.”

He walked around me and looked me up and down while he licked his lips and fiddled with his hair.

“I think you’re ready,” he said before looking up at my face. “Oh, wait.”

With an outstretched hand, he reached back and violently swatted me across the face, leaving a large, red imprint. I started to tear up, causing my makeup to run down my face. I held my cheek and looked back at him. He looked at me like an art piece that he was unsure of how to proceed with. I suspected that this was my punishment for not sleeping with him immediately after nearly drowning me. He grabbed my arm, pulled me closer, and licked his thumb.

“We need to keep up the battered woman façade.”

_It’s not a façade. _

He pulled at the bottom of my eyelids to dramatize the mascara and eyeliner smearing down my cheeks. As he released me, he pushed me back, causing me to battle against the high heels so I wouldn’t fall to the floor.

“They’ll drop you off a block away.”

I wiped the tears from my chin and nodded, staring at the floor. I’d gone back to avoiding eye contact with him.

The goons lead the way towards the door, and I followed behind them. I heard the Joker’s shuffling footsteps behind me as we processed down the hallway to the front door. Before I passed through the door, he yet again grabbed hold of me. I was begging to develop small bruises around my biceps where he would dig his fingertips into my arms.

“Remember: desperation. And pay attention to the layout of the place.”

I silently nodded and stepped forward towards the door. He slapped me across the butt and started giggling before disappearing back into the building. I stopped and clenched my fists for a moment before proceeding; my nails dug into my palms and drew a small amount of blood from them. As I stepped out into the street, the icy wind bit at my bare skin and immediately caused me to turn red.

Maurice held open the door to the SUV as I carefully stepped inside and took my place in the backseat. He shot me a sympathetic stare before shutting the door and sitting in the passenger’s seat. I pressed my legs together and ran my hands over my arms to gain some warmth. The driver reached over to turn on the heater.

“Do you want to take my coat?” Maurice asked.

I shook my head, “No. If he finds out, he’ll be mad.”

“How would he find out?” 

“Just…no thank you. I’ll be fine.”

I thought of the emotionless stare he wore while he was watching me suffocate under water. I was terrified of drowning, and I couldn’t get the event out of my head. He didn’t even blink.

As the SUV pulled up beside the curb, Maurice turned back to me.

“We’ll be close.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

I apprehensively stared out into the snowy street before finally deciding to get out of the car. My feet navigated the sidewalk with difficulty. I thought that I’d break an ankle before I ever even reached Maroni’s place. I also silently prayed that his wife or mistress wouldn’t be there to make things even more awkward than they already were.

The doormen watched me approach through the falling snow. I shook violently as my feet clicked across the ground. One of them pulled out a gun when I came closer.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve…”

I held out one convulsing arm in front of me.

“P-Please. I-I need t-to speak with h-him.”

“Why would he want to see you?”

“I rh-ran.”

They looked at one another before one of them nodded in the direction of the door. I was left alone with a doorman while the other went inside, presumably to speak with Sal. I held onto my arms and shivered aggressively in the icy temperature.

“Geeze,” he said as he removed his jacket.

He placed it around my shoulders and continued to watch me.

“Th-thank you.”

The other doorman appeared from the building.

“He says to come in.”  
_Thank god. _

I was escorted inside. The sudden exchange from cold to warm made my erythemic skin sting and itch. They brought me into a room in the back of the main floor. Inside, there were numerous white sofas with a chandelier dangling overhead. Expensive looking rugs spread overtop of dark wooden flooring. I sat down on one of the sofas and stared down at my tomato-colored legs while I waited for Sal. I realized that the Joker hadn’t really given me any true instructions, just some vague guidelines for getting through this mess.

“You…I dunno, want something to drink?” The doorman asked.

I shook my head, “I’m fine.”

“He’s on his way down.”

He walked away and left me alone inside of the room. There were numerous tall windows outlining the perimeter; I silently watched the snow fall while I waited. 

The room’s large, white doors opened, and Sal casually walked through. He shook his head at me before he sat down and waved the doorman that accompanied him away.

“I’m surprised you’re here. You seemed pretty confident the other day. Why the sudden change of heart?”

“I didn’t know what he had been planning. I was just playing along. He’s been treating me worse every day.”

He looked me up and down, “You do look a little rough around the edges. What’s with the dress?”

“He makes me…” I made a dramatic pause before continuing. “He makes me dress like this.”

“What else does he make you do?”

I stared back down at my lap and shook my head as I began to sob. The boss would have been proud of my performance. Sal got up and moved to the same couch I was sitting on; he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to me.

“I’ll get you out. You can stay upstairs tonight.”

I shook my head, “No. If I don’t go back tonight, and he finds me…He’s relentless.”

He paused for a moment and looked to the side.

“You know, you _did _seem pretty comfortable with him the other day.”

_Shit._

“I-uh,” I stammered. “I can’t act like anything is wrong around him, you know? It makes him upset.”

“Right. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Once he left the room, I looked around. He was suspicious. There was a window on the other side of the room. I placed my arms inside the doorman’s jacket and got up from the couch. There was a latch on the window that needed some force to pry open. I pushed up against the window and pulled as hard as I could on the latch. It wouldn’t budge. The door to the room flew open, and I quickly turned around. Sal was there with one of the doormen who had a gun raised at me.

“What’s going on?” I asked shakily.

“I just want to make sure you’re not blowing smoke up my ass, Kay. Why don’t you sit back down?”

I put my hands up and took a step forward before launching myself backwards with as much force as I could manage. The glass gave way, and I fell into a snowbank below the window. The glass cut my legs and arms as I rolled over to get up from the ground. I kicked off the heels and started to run away. From the broken window, the doorman shot off a round that grazed my arm. I yelped and continued to run down the street towards the waiting SUV. I covered my head with my arms as more shots fired behind me. The squeal of rubber on asphalt drew nearer, and the black SUV stopped suddenly in front of me. The door opened, and Maurice waved for me to get in. I jumped head-first into the back seat, and we sped away with the door wide open. I turned myself around and grabbed hold of the door to shut it.

“That was fast,” said the driver.

“He figured it out. He knew right away.”

“What the hell did you tell him?”

“Nothing!”

“Joker’s gonna be pissed at you,” Maurice chimed in.

I’d never actually failed him before. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. I held onto my bleeding arm and thought about what my fate might be once we arrived back at the safe house.

* * *

I pushed the door to the apartment open slowly and peeked inside. It was dark.

“Boss?” I called out quietly.

There as no response; he wasn’t there. I went inside and took off the doorman’s jacket. My arm bled and red streaks dripped downwards. The small cuts on my legs stung with every step I took. I went into the kitchen and picked out a new bottle of liquor from the cabinet before sitting down at the table. I lit a cigarette and puffed on it while I took full gulps from the bottle. He was going to be extremely agitated once he found out that I hadn’t completed what I was sent to do, and I was going to be too drunk to care.

Minutes passed, then hours. I was halfway through the bottle when he appeared, silhouetted in the doorway. I hadn’t even noticed the door open. He shut the door behind him, causing the room to go dark once again. His face was illuminated by the bright moonlight that shined through the windows. He proceeded into the room and cocked his head to one side.

“What happened, Kay?”

I shifted my gaze upwards as I exhaled a large cloud of smoke. I took one more large swallow from the bottle and stood up from the table, snuffing my cigarette before approaching him. I smiled drunkenly and placed my palms on his chest. I stood on my tiptoes and rested my cheek on his.

“I fucked up,” I whispered into his ear.

I lowered my heels back onto the carpet and pushed him. He tripped backwards onto the couch behind him and sat momentarily before trying to get back up. I reached behind me and began to unzip the tight, black dress. He stopped and watched me pull it down, sitting back and sinking lower into the sofa. I silently stepped over to him and straddled his lap. I ran my hand up the back of his head and pulled back. His tongue prodded at the scar on his bottom lip. 

If this was going to happen, it was happening on my terms. 


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning, a door slammed shut and jerked me out of my sleep. I laid on my stomach and my face turned towards a large window that displayed the blizzard brewing outside. My eyes blinked and adjusted to the grey light sleepily billowing into the room. I sat up in the bed and wrapped the large duvet around my naked body. An immediate wave of sickness and headache came over me as I stared down at the empty space next to me. I groaned and allowed myself to fall face first into one of the pillows. My hope was to stay in bed all day and nurse my hangover in peace, but I knew better.

I sat on the edge of the bed and dangled my legs over the side. The night before was an amalgamation of short memories – heavy breathing, his weight on top of me, and the way he pushed my face into the mattress. I shook my head and stood up.

On the other side of the room, the shopping bags that contained the clothing I purchased the day before slouched against the wall. I rummaged through them and picked out a shirt and jeans; before I pulled the shirt over my torso, I caught my reflection in the mirror across the room. I saw traces of white and red smeared onto my skin. I stopped and lifted the shirt back up to see that they continued up to my neck and around to my back. A long, heavy sigh escaped me before I dropped the shirt again and went into the main room. The coffee maker that sat on the counter was squealing and spewing out its rich, black brew. I opted to make my own, because if the Joker was the one who had made it, I wasn't going to be the first to drink it.

I sat down at the table with my sketchbook and started doodling tools that I would have used as an autopsy technician. Somehow, I was missing dissecting people. It beat what I'd been doing – whatever you want to call my profession. While I thought of more things to add to the page, I looked up from the book and saw that there was a notebook sitting on top of the table. The same notebook that the Joker often scribbled in. I bit my lip and stared at it. If I looked and he found out…well, I guess I've shared enough about him by this point for you to get an idea of what he might do. Still, the temptation was real, and too much for me to bear.

I stood and slowly approached, almost as if I were sneaking up on it. My fingers grazed it's dirty, black cover. Surrounding its edges was the same thick, white makeup that he used on his greasy face. I put my thumb underneath the cover and looked up at the door.

_He's not here. Just take a peek._

I took a deep breath and gently opened its cover. On the inside, there was a section printed into the book that had a space for the book's owner to place their name. Instead of writing a name, he had drawn two black circles next to one another, and a red half-moon shape opening upwards underneath them. I picked up the book in my hands and flipped through the pages. There were pictures of Batman, and Harvey Dent. There were also many pictures of the mob bosses that looked as if they were picked up from security camera footage; around them were notes about the boss's individual personalities. He even had some of their birthdays written down. Some of the pages were scrawlings that looked like they were written by a mental patient. The writing was sloppy, and the words were disjointed and jumped from thought to thought sporadically. But I soon realized that all the writing contained his plans, even some of the things that had already happened. There was a sketch of the inside of Herman's safe house, detailing floor by floor.

My fingers slipped through the pages, desperately trying to find the answers that I _really_ wanted.

_Who was he? Who _is_ he?_

Then, I saw something that made my stomach turn. There was a photo of me. A photo from the night that I met Herman. The night that set off all of this bullshit in the first place. Similar to the photos of the mob bosses, it looked like it had been taken from the security footage at Herman's night club. I found out after that night, from Herman himself, that he was able to locate me from the security footage from the nightclub. So how did the Joker get ahold of it? I began to read the notes surrounding my picture.

_Find girl. Could be useful? Bombs, bombs, BOMBS._

_Kaylin Bennet. Kay._

_Work for Herman._

I put the book back down on the table. Whether it was the book's contents or imbibing too much the night before, I felt like I needed to vomit. I swallowed hard and lifted the book to continue reading.

_Girl doing well enough._

_She blew a guy's limbs off for Falcone_

_AHHAHAHAHAHAHAH._

_Herman hemorrhaging money. Needs to go._

_Keep Kay?_

_Kay Bennet is_

_Malleable_

_Loyal_

_Vapid_

_Dense_

_Useful to me_

_SHE CAN'T SEE ME_

He was the boss before I knew he was the boss. He's the one that found me, not Herman. Herman was working for him the whole time. The cheap supplies that he continuously bought made sense now – the Joker hated spending a lot of money on those things. He also hated people having a good time on his dime. Herman was spending the left-over cash on parties, and the boss found out about it. He then came out of hiding, to do things his own way, the correct way. Murdering Herman was only the first step in this long, messy odyssey.

There was another picture of me in the notebook. This time, it was of me at graduation. I stood, smiling at the camera. The Joker had doctored the picture with a drawing of the same black eyes and smile over my face and drew a heart around my head. I put the book down and closed it.

_I need to take leaving more seriously._

Outside the room, I heard heavy footsteps on the metal catwalks. I quickly stepped away from the book and took back my original seat at the head of the table. When he walked in the door, I pretended to be invested in a small doodle that I went over with my pencil again and again. He pushed his hair away from his face and stepped towards the table. I looked up at him.

"Well good morning. How are we _ahem_ feeling this morning?"

"Fine," I said in a hushed voice.

He placed two hands on the back of a chair and leaned forward.

"Quite the show you put on last night. I didn't know you could bend that way."

I dropped my pencil into the sketchbook and leaned back in my chair. My arms crossed in front of my chest and my eyes rolled.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh? Why's that? You seemed to really enjoy yourself," he laughed. "In fact, you kept asking for more."

"Okay. Stop," I said as I got up from the table.

"What's wrong? Are you scared of admitting that you liked it? Oooorr…"

He speed-walked to the other side of the room and blocked my entrance into the bedroom.

"Are you afraid of admitting it's what you wanted?"

He licked at his lips and turned his head in anticipation for my answer.

"I was drunk."

"Well, you know what they say. Drunk mind, sober thoughts."

I took a step back and leaned on one of the sofas.

"It's never going to happen again, so there's no point talking about it. Stop pestering me about it."

His scars turned up into their grotesque grin.

"Oh, I wouldn't say never. Life's funny like that."

I shook my head and ran my hand through my hair.

"Did you need something?"

"Oh, right. We have a guest."

He nodded towards the door, and a bound man was dragged though by Maurice. It was one of the bodyguards from the night before. I recognized him as the one who shot at me and left a gaping scrape in my arm.

The Joker put an arm around me and put his face to my ear. His fingertips dug into my shoulder.

"Since you weren't able to get the job done," he growled. "I had to take extra measures."

Behind the bodyguard and Maurice was an entourage carrying boxes that were labeled "drain cleaner."

The Joker smiled and moved towards the bodyguard.

"I have a few questions for you. Personally, I prefer doing it the hard way, it's more fun. Buuut if you prefer the easy way, I won't object."

The man reeled back and spit in the Joker's face. He continued to smile and wiped the phlegm from his face using the sleeve of his coat.

He laughed and turned to Maurice, "Put him in the tub. Strip 'em first."

Maurice did what he was told and took the man into the bathroom. We all followed behind. The bodyguard's shirt and pants were cut off his body, and he was shoved into the hot tub.

"You're gonna drown me?"

The Joker laughed once again, "Too simple! I'm much more creative than that."

He sat down on the edge of the tub and made a "come hither" motion with his index finger towards the men carrying the boxes. They set one down in front of him, he used a knife to open the top and pulled out a bottle of Drano. He propped the bottle on the edge next to him so the man could see it. The bodyguard frowned and he stared at his feet at the bottom of the tub.

"I'm not drinking that."

"Good! I need you to talk."

"I'm also not telling you shit."

The Joker was giddy with excitement. He pushed down on the top of the bottle and turned.

"I hoped you'd say that."

He began to pour the bottle of liquid drain cleaner on top of the bodyguard's legs. Almost instantly, the man began to writhe and scream. I could see the blisters and burns begin to form. Some of the Joker's men began to back out of the room.

"Don't leave," I said. "He wants you to watch."

The boss turned back towards us.

"She's right. Watch."

They shifted their weight back and forth between their feet, looking very uncomfortable. These men never know what they're getting themselves into. They're never told what to expect.

The bodyguard's breaths became labored, and he leaned his head back in the tub as he looked up at the Joker.

"There's more where that came from," the boss teased.

"Go fuck yourself!"

Boss shrugged and poured more of the liquid out onto his body, emptying the bottle over the man's feet. While the man cried out in agony, the Joker tossed the bottle behind him. We stepped out of the way in case any residual cleaner came out of the flying bottle. The Joker leaned forward on the tub and rested his hands between his knees. He patiently waited for the man's screams to subside. The man addressed me.

"You're just going to stand there and let him do this?!" He yelled.

I shrugged. "He's giving you an opportunity to say something, and you're choosing to stay quiet. Besides, you shot my arm last night."

The Joker nodded and thumbed towards me. "It's true. She bled on me."

The Joker picked up another bottle of the corrosive cleaner from the box and shook it before twisting it open. I looked down into the tub and saw that the man's skin was beginning to separate from the muscle.

"You should probably start saying something," I said. "You may not have legs in the next few minutes."

I really did wish he would say something, the display was disgusting. He looked down at his melting lower extremities as he tried to catch his breath.

"W-what do you _hnngh_ want to know?"

The boss looked down at him like he was a cockroach that he'd found on the bottom of his shoe.

"Who is Maroni's supplier?"

I furrowed my brows

_Why does he care where Maroni gets his drugs from?_

The bodyguard grimaced and rolled his eyes up. The pain was giving him the shakes. The Joker reached forward and snapped his fingers in the man's face.

"C'mon, c'mon. We don't have all day."

The man exhaled, "Chechen."

Joker smiled, "Aaand when is his next pick up?"

"Tomorrow night. North Point docks."

The liquid in the tub was beginning to turn a flesh color. His deteriorating limbs were starting to create a smell in the air. Maurice covered his mouth with his shirt.

"Please. I told you what you want," the man said. "Rinse me off."

"You don't use water. Yo-"

I stopped mid-sentence when I saw the Joker lift the new bottle and start to pour it into the tub. The man began to scream again as the disgusting liquid in the tub began to rise. The boss bent down and started to empty another bottle.

"I TOLD YOU WHAT YOU WANTED! I TOLD YOU!" The man screamed.

We watched as the boss emptied the entirety of five bottles into the tub and moved to open another box. He continued until the tub was filled to the man's shoulders. While he dumped, he hummed an unrecognizable tune. By then, he had gone into shock and was barely moving or breathing. I was so taken back by the cruelty of his actions that I didn't even notice that Maurice and the rest of the guys had left the bathroom. Once the Joker was done, he stood, and motioned me out the door.

"I, uh, wouldn't use the hot tub for a while."

He closed the bathroom door behind us and led me into the sitting area.

"Have a seat."

I did what I was told and sat down on one of the leather couches. I crossed my legs up underneath me and watched him walk into the kitchen. He poured coffee into two mugs and joined me on the couch, handing me one of the cups.

"Thank you."

I had no intention of drinking it, but I felt it was safe after watching him drink his own. I took a sip and immediately got a mouthful of coffee grounds. Next to me, he enjoyed his while I spit mine back into the mug; I set it down on the coffee table in front of us and sat back in the couch. He sucked at his teeth for a moment before setting his mug down next to mine. I stared down at my lap, but I could feel his gaze burning a hole into the side of my head. He reached out and started to twirl the ends of my hair between his fingers.

He took in a breath before speaking, "We're going to intercept that meeting tomorrow. I need something…._big_. Something that will _shatter _windows. Think you can do that?"

I turned my head towards him.

"Depends. What are you planning on blowing up?"

"The _whooole_ supply. We aaare, cutting off part of Maroni's business."

I've never been able to get used to the weird rhythm in which he speaks. There are pauses where no one else pauses. His voice crescendos and increases in pitch at odd points. What he says is already unpredictable, _how _he says it is even more unpredictable.

"He's getting it all from the Chechen, what about him?"

"What about him?"

"I mean, why not cut it off at the source."  
"Simple. The Russian's not as sharp as Maroni. We may still need him later on."

Because it had been at least twenty minutes since his last fix, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes.

"Speaking of which," he said as he lit the end. "Check and make sure that that little, uh, fun room on the third floor is ready."

"….did you want more Drano?"

He shook his head, "I'm the kind of guy that likes a little…_variety._ Just make sure the chains are still attached to the floor, and the chair should have restraints. I can help you test those if you'd like," he said as he raised an eyebrow at me.

"I'm sure I can manage. Thanks."

He exhaled a puff of smoke and shrugged his shoulders, "Suit yourself."

We shared a silent moment; the final cries of the bodyguard echoed from the bathroom. A cold shudder came over me, and I wrapped my arms around my shoulders.

"_Ahem._"

I looked at him.

"Did you look?"

"Look at what?" I fibbed.

He pulled the black notebook from his coat and flipped through it with his fingers. The cigarette held between his teeth ashed on his lap.

"No. I didn't look."

He turned up one side of his mouth and narrowed his eyes at me in suspicion.

"I didn't. Really."

I wish I could say that I wasn't sure why I lied, but I was too afraid of the ramifications. Especially after watching him chemically melt someone alive.

"Was I supposed to?" I asked.

"I assumed your…curiosity would have gotten the better of you."

"Hmph," I grunted. "And I assumed your anger would have gotten the better of you."

He grabbed me by my shirt collar and pulled me in closer to his face. I was beginning to feel like a rag doll. His fingers plucked the cigarette from his mouth, and he blew its smoke in my face. I turned away and squeezed my eyes together.

"Anger?" He mused. "What anger?"

"Nothing," I said backing down. "I don't know what I'm talking about."  
"Clearly."

He tossed me to the other side of the couch, and I hit the back of my head on the arm on the opposite side. I sat back up and used my hand to rub the small bump that was forming. He placed his cigarette into his coffee cup and crawled across the sofa on his hands and knees. I leaned back again and slumped down while squeezing together my shoulders as he hovered over me. The hair on his head slid down his neck and slapped the sides of my face. He flashed his browned teeth at me and I reeled back from the smell of his breath.

"Kay."

"Y-yeah?" I responded quietly.

"You should go do what I asked you."

I nodded quickly and he moved an arm out of the way so I could escape his intimidation tactic. As I left the room, I could hear him chuckling to himself. He put his feet up on the coffee table and began to work in his notebook.

Out on the catwalk, I hid my face in my hands and shirt and muffled a frustrated scream. I probably looked like a small child throwing a fit. Once I was done expressing my resentment, I pulled my shirt down and made my way down the stairwell to the next floor.

The door was heavier than I remembered. I pushed with both of my hands and walked inside. The room was dusty and stuffy; like it hadn't been used in quite a while, which I suppose is a good thing. The chains attached to the floor were laid into messy piles. I untangled them, grabbed hold, and pulled; leaning back to see if they would detach from their anchors. I repeated this with the three sets on the floor, and the two on the walls.

Lastly, I looked at the chair in the middle of the room. It looked like an odd combination of a dentist's and gynecologist's exam chair. I thought that maybe it was meant for prisoners who were getting medical treatment during their incarceration. I flipped over the belt-like restraints in my hands to check them for tears and inconsistencies. I did a pull test on the restraints and dropped them back down.

Towards the back of the room, there was a small cabinet that caught my eye. I crouched down and opened it. Inside, there were two shelves full of miscellaneous first aid and medical supplies. I moved some of the items around, and noticed a small vial sitting in the back corner of the cabinet. I picked it up and examined it between my fingers. The label read _Ativan. _It was a strong sedative. My mouth turned up into a smile. I shuffled around in the cabinet to see if I could find any syringes.

* * *

That evening, the Joker was busy downstairs with Maurice and the others, coaching them for the sabotage of Maroni's supply pick up. Upstairs, I poured myself a glass of wine and leaned over my sketchbook, examining my design for any mistakes before it was put together.

The television quietly hummed jazzy melodic renditions of Christmas tunes. The window displayed the perfect winter scene occurring outside, it was perfect for a fan of the season. Which I definitely am. I swayed my hips to _Baby it's Cold Outside_ and nursed my glass of Chardonnay. The alcohol was beginning to run low, and as a passing thought, I wondered what tensions would rise when we officially ran out. But for the moment, I had bigger and better things to worry about.

I had stuffed a towel under the door of the bathroom to keep the smell of the bodyguard at bay. Because the building didn't currently have heat, it was tolerable for the time being. I spritzed my neck with a little bit of perfume and sat down at the large table with my work and wine while I waited for the boss to come back up.

Once his heavy steps clunked their way up the stairs, I took a deep breath and chugged the rest of the wine from the glass. I poured myself another while the door slowly opened. I was really in need of my liquid courage that evening. He saw the nearly empty bottle of wine sitting next to me and grinned.

"Hitting the bottle hard this week?"

"Something like that," I said lustfully.

He sat down at the table and threw back the rest of the bottle before tossing it to the other side of the room. It shattered once it landed on the floor. I took another deep breath and stood up. I placed my sketchbook in front of him and stood behind him.

"What do you think?"

He leaned forward over the book and looked over my work. I put my hands on his shoulders and let them run forward over his chest. I saw his head turn and he eyed me from his peripherals.

"Looks good," he said quickly. "You're affectionate this even-ing."

I stood straight again and stepped back.

"Must be the wine," I sighed.

_Crap._

I began to walk away when he reached out, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me back over his lap. I leaned against him and pulled down his bottom lip, allowing it to snap back into place once I released it.

"I guess you were right," I said in a flirty tone.

He smiled and licked his lips as he ran a hand down my back and up behind my thigh. I leaned forward and wrapped my hands around his face while we kissed. After a moment, I stood and began undressing, leaving a trail of my clothing on the way to the bedroom. He remained at the table and watched me.

_Follow me, you idiot!_

Eventually, he would slowly remove his jackets and his vest, and pull his suspenders up over his shoulders, allowing them to dangle around his hips. I motioned for him to join me on top of the bed. He hoisted himself up and draped over me. I bit my lip while my hands loosened his tie. His hand reached behind my head and tugged on my hair while his face pressed into my neck. I began to let out small, quiet breaths that announced my enjoyment. I dropped my arms by my head and gripped onto the bottom of the headboard. My fingers snuck their way up gently behind the board. I tightly wrapped my legs around his waist to hold him in place.

While he explored my chest with his mouth, my thumb flicked the cap off the syringe. I continued to quietly moan while I mentally prepared myself for what was about to happen. I quickly pulled my hand from behind the headboard and swiftly jabbed the needle down into his neck. He yelled out and placed his hand over mine. With his other hand, he back handed me, and I released my legs from around him. I quickly scurried out from underneath him and stood on the side of the bed. He pulled the syringe from his neck and threw it to the side of the room. I backed myself up against the wall, praying that the sedative would take hold sooner than later.

He was _seething, _but he was laughing.

"What was it Kay?" He asked angrily as he began to come towards me.

I was starting to get nervous; it wasn't working as quickly as I'd anticipated. I didn't answer his question.

He tilted his head and allowed his voice to waver, "What. Was. IT KAY?"

He walked on his knees to the edge of the bed.

"KAAAY!" He raged at me.

Suddenly, his eyes began to blink rapidly, and he placed a hand down to support his weight. He was going down. He laid his head down and he began to laugh manically. I stepped forward and stood over him while his laughter slowed, and his eyes struggled to remain open.

"I quit."


	14. Chapter 14

_If you're reading this, I guess it means that you're awake and I didn't screw up the dosage. I think that we both knew that this day would eventually come, but neither of us was exactly sure how. Normally, I would apologize. But I know that it would mean nothing to you. So, instead, I'll leave you with this._

_I can no longer stand by your side. I've played your game long enough. I laughed, I cried, and I feared. I feared what would become of me, I feared death, and I feared incarceration. But most of all, I feared you. Boss, you terrify me, and it's not because you're unpredictable or because you've been physically and mentally disfigured at the hands of some unknown entity. It's because you've changed me. I heard myself speaking like you; I've even acted out like you. I don't want to be you. Because of you, I'll constantly be looking over my shoulder. Every lurking shadow or trick of the eye will be you for the rest of my life. I'll be on the run until I get tired of running._

_But, don't get me wrong. There are things that I admire about you. However, I won't list them because I refuse to stroke your ego. I'm not even sure why I'm writing this letter, because I know it will mean next to nothing to you. I guess that it's more for me than it is for you._

_So, I lied. I read the notebook. I have a feeling that you already knew that, but I also wanted to come clean. That's one of the many differences between you and me. I still have a conscience. I've wanted to leave for a long time, but the notebook put the nail in the coffin. There's more going on here than I can comprehend, and whatever you're cooking up in that spooky little head of yours, I want nothing to do with it. I'm still unsure what your intentions were with me, but I guess it doesn't really matter anymore._

_I suspect that you'll try to find me, and I also suspect that you'll succeed. You're a smart guy, so why not? But truth be told, I don't care to cross paths with you again. If the circumstances were different, I feel like you and I would have made a great team. But the circumstances aren't different. They are what they are._

_I've never asked for anything from you, but I will now. I know that you finding me will result in my death. I know that you'll be tempted to tell me another one of your "scars" stories, or you'll torture me slowly. However, I ask that if it comes to that point, please, make it quick. For all of the shit you put me through, for everything that I did on your behalf, I think I deserve a quick death at the least._

_Fuck you,_

\- _Kay Bennet_

_P.S. Your "foreplay" is garbage, and I took your smokes._

* * *

I drove through the blinding snow to the other side of the city. I had nowhere to go, and I had no idea where I was going. My mind was racing and panicking. I was sure he'd find me. I was sure that he'd suddenly pop up in the back seat of the car and strangle me. Whatever the case, he wasn't going to be merciful. I _was _going to die.

I had to pull over the car so I could calm myself and prevent hyperventilation. I scooted over on the bench seat and opened the passenger side door, puking onto the pavement on the side of the road. The snow was coming down so rapidly that my stomach contents were covered up shortly afterwards. I shut the car door and sat back in the seat. I knew I couldn't wait there for long. Once the Joker woke up, he would tell his men what had happened. Maurice would know that I lied to him about going out to pick up a couple of things at the store. I had even convinced him that I didn't need him to come with.

I settled myself back into the driver's seat and put the car back into drive. As I crossed to the other side of town, I had noticed that the neighborhood was beginning to look familiar. It was Herman's old stomping grounds. As I passed in front of the club, I saw that it was shut down. The windows were boarded up, and some of the city's homeless had taken refuge near the doors to wait out the storm. I pulled around the side of the building and parked in the alleyway.

The large door with the slot in it was shut and locked, and the window that the Joker broke to come after me was boarded. I picked up a metal trash can and turned it upside down. Carefully, I stepped up on top of it to reach up over the door. The key was exactly where we left it. I put it in the hole, turned, and pocketed the key. From my backpack, I pulled out a flashlight and shined it in the entrance way. Inside the safe house, the stairwell that led up to the main floor was longer than I had remembered. I shut the door behind me and locked it.

I finally came face to face with the scene of Herman's death. In the middle of the floor, there were large stains where they had fallen over and perished. The papers that the Joker had thrown up into the air were covered with dried blood and stuck to the floor. I pulled my jacket tighter over my shoulders and continued to the upper floor.

The place was eerily quiet. Every so often, there was the sound of scurrying rats or the building settling. Outside, you could hear the force of the wind doing its best to try to blow the place over. The floorboards creaked under my weight. Up on the second floor, everything was torn apart. Herman's desk was turned over and the drawers were all pulled out. The wall safe was opened and emptied. The room that I had once called my workshop was disheveled in a similar fashion.

I went inside and picked up my office chair from the floor. I pushed it towards the window and sat down. Outside, the storm continued, but I could still see well enough down the street that I could anticipate anyone coming or going. From the backpack, I pulled a blanket and a pack of cigarettes that I had stolen from the Joker's coat pocket. He was already going to be angry when he woke up, taking his smokes would be pouring salt in the wound and soaking it in lemon juice. I wrapped myself in the blanket and lit the end of a cigarette. Another bad habit that I indulged in because of _him_.

It had only been a few hours since I'd left the Joker's hideout, but I already felt like a huge burden had been lifted. Once I left the city, I would have to spend my time hiding; but at least it would be peaceful. I only needed to ride out the storm before I could cross the bridges to leave.

I had written him a note and left it on top of his coat so he would be sure to see it. I only wished to be a fly on the wall when he read it. Whether he would laugh or tear everything apart, I wasn't sure. If I was lucky, he'd forget about me and concentrate his efforts elsewhere. I'm also not a very lucky person.

The blanket covered the top of my head and shoulders, but it wasn't enough to keep away the cold. I shivered while I puffed on the cigarette and flicked it to the side of the room. My head leaned against the windowsill so I could still see out the space between the boards on the windows. I closed my eyes for what only seemed like a moment. When I opened them there was a large, shining light that shone in my face. Down in the alleyway, the black SUV rolled up in front of the car I'd taken.

"Oh, goddamn it. Already?"

I quickly rolled up the blanket and shoved it back into the backpack with the flashlight. From the window, I saw the Joker get out of the backseat of the SUV and adjust his coat over his shoulders. I picked up the backpack and left the room. The front door opened as I crouched at the top of the staircase on the second floor. The Joker strolled up the stairs and looked around on the main floor. I ducked down and remained low while I turned back. There was no roof access, but there was a fire escape that I could get to from the floor above.

The rays from a flashlight passed over me. I pressed myself against the wall and remained still for a moment while I listened for movement below me. Down on the floor, I saw the Joker standing over the place where he shot Herman months before and tilted his head. His arms remained at his sides as he turned his upper body towards the spot that I was hiding. I stiffened up and held my breath until his gaze passed over me. He looked over at his accomplices and nodded towards the staircase. They began to make their way up, and he slowly followed behind them.

I hurried my way up the stairs and to the last room.

"Boss, she's been here!"

The door made a small creak, and I shut it behind me. The windows in this room were boarded, but scarcely. They had probably run out of boards by the time they reached this floor. I pulled one of the boards away from the windows and propped it up under the door handle. They were in the room beneath me and making their way up. I shimmied the window up and crawled out.

As I got down the first set of stairs, a ray of light flashed out from the window in front of me. I backed up and leaned up against the building. I could see the Joker on the inside peering outside and looking at the fire escape. He lowered the flashlight and quickly turned around; he realized that he made a mistake. I checked the window one more time before I picked up my pace and embraced the ladder to slide down into the alley.

I threw my bag inside the car and stuck the key in the ignition. Just as the engine was turning over, the door burst open and the Joker stepped around it. I put the car into reverse and stomped on the accelerator. He produced his gun and shot at the car; I screamed and ducked my head down. The car skidded on the ice on its way into the street; I put it into drive and sped down the street.

Moments later, the black SUV approached rapidly behind me. It slammed into the bumper of the car and threatened to push me off the road. I tried to speed up the car while remaining in control in despite of the weather. But he was faster.

He pulled up next to me and rolled down a window, pointing his gun down at me. I stomped on the brakes while he continued on and skidded on the ice once he attempted to stop. I took a sharp turn and darted down an adjacent street, taking multiple lefts and rights to lose him. From the rear-view mirror, I didn't see the large black vehicle pursuing me. I began to slow the car and focused on monitoring my surroundings.

To my side, bright headlights blinded my vision. I turned in time to see the SUV coming straight for me. It crashed into the side of the car, making me slide across the bench seat and slam into the passenger's side door. The car turned up on its side and flipped down the street. I shut my eyes tightly and tried to stabilize myself. The vehicle finally landed on its roof and slid across the icy ground before slowly coming to a stop.

I laid on the roof of the car and looked out the busted windows. My head and body ached, and I could taste blood in my mouth. From the SUV, he appeared and stretched out his neck before casually approaching the car. Behind him, the front of the large vehicle had its front end crunched inwards, and smoke billowed out from under the bend hood. He took his switchblade from his pocket and opened it, but suddenly stopped. He was looking at something that was coming down from the sky. A large set of boots settled into the snow and faced him.

"I'm busy, do you mind?"

"Let her go free," the Bat's growling voice called towards the other side of the street.

I rolled over on my back and groaned.

"Oh sure. I'll just let her go with you and we'll forget everything," he said before spitting on the ground.

"She's not cut out for this. She never has been. You know that."

The Joker giggled, "She _wasn't. _But she's on her way. You _failed_ to save a soul. How does that feel? Hm?"

I kicked out the remainder of the glass on the passenger's side window and did my best to climb out without incurring more injuries. Behind me, they began to circle one another.

"I'm fixing that. She's going to Arkham, like she was supposed to."

I didn't want to go with the Joker, but I also _really _didn't want to go to the asylum. In the distance, police sirens could be heard making their approach. They caught the Joker's attention.

"Look, I gotta be going. Your, uh, noble…intentions? They're for nothing, nada. She's going to end up back in my hands regardless. So why don't you pack up and join your cop buddies?"

Behind me, I heard Batman growl an incomprehensible sentence before a fight broke out between them. I limped down another back-way alley and hid myself out of the light. I felt blood trickling down my face, and the pain I felt in my ribs worsened each time I breathed in the cold night air. Once there was a decent amount of distance between me and the scene, I leaned back against a brick wall to rest and catch my breath. I probably should have walked to the nearest hospital and gave up. Instead, I sucked up my miseries and moved along down the alley. My breaths created large clouds of moisture in front of my face that dissipated as I hobbled through them. I eventually had to stop again. I moaned and spit blood out onto the ground.

When I reached the end of the back street, a white van pulled up in front of me, blocking my way out. I couldn't run. There was no way to get away.

"Fuck, what now?"

The van door opened, and a small-figured individual wearing a suit and a burlap sack as a mask stepped out. The mask had a noose wrapped around its neck, and the mouth was a mess of thick string zig-zagging back and forth fashioned into an exaggerated frown. The entirety of the mask looked as if it had been torn apart and crudely sewn back together. From behind the holes that were cut for the eyes, two bright blue irises stared back at me.

The figure removed its mask, revealing Jonathan Crane's face.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked.

"I…..I," I began to stammer.

The police sirens rang out again and I turned to look over my shoulder.

"Get in."

* * *

The alcohol burned my skin as it made contact with my wounds. Crane held one of my arms in his hand and poured with the other. I winced and looked away.

"So," he began. "You drugged him and ran away?"

"Yeah. It was the best option I had."

He smiled softly and looked up at me.

"Why didn't you just leave him as he was after the Fear Toxin?"

"I don't know," I whispered. "Maybe…maybe I thought it would be different."

"You thought that he would care for you?"

I leaned back in my chair and turned my head away from him. My lungs took in a large gasp of air before I began to cry. He released my arm and put his hand on my shoulder.

"Come on now. Surely, you're a victim. But it doesn't mean you have to act like one."

"He got to me, Jonathan. I let him get to me. He _changed _me."

He sat back and removed his glasses.

"He did. But was it all for the worst?"

I looked back at him and wiped my face with my sleeve.

"You're a different person now. I remember when I first met you. You were a quiet, trembling bundle of nerves. When you came to see me for the antidote, it was like meeting you for the first time again."

I laughed through my tears. "I was terrified that night."

"You didn't seem like it."

I looked down at all the healed scars, scabbed-over cuts, and fresh lacerations on my arms. He placed a hand on one of my knees.

"Why don't you get some rest? Sleep will do your mind some good."

"I'm not sure that I'd be able to sleep."

"I can give you something for that. It won't do any harm."

I bobbed my head up and down in small, slow nods, "Okay."

He handed me two small blue pills. I took them and fell fast asleep shortly afterwards.

* * *

My few days' stay with Crane was pleasant. He was also somewhat off kilter, but in a different way. There were no violent outbursts, and there were no threats to my life. Jonathan did, however, also dream of a Gotham that was under his control. That's what the Fear Toxin was for. And while he had shown me kindness, I was relieved that he failed in his endeavors.

On Christmas Eve, I sat in front of the fireplace while he sat at his desk looking over some papers. He had an old record player that cranked out old, scratchy tunes. It was peaceful. Something that I had taken for granted before being employed by the Joker.

"Did you and your family have any holiday traditions?" He asked.

"Not really," I said as I sipped my tea. "I mean, we each opened a gift on Christmas Eve. That's about it."

"Well, I've forgotten to do my shopping. How embarrassing."

I quietly laughed through my nose as I stood and approached the desk.

"I think you've done plenty for me."

He smiled at me before facing his work again.

"Jonathan."

I placed my tea on the edge of his desk and leaned over the side.

"I've been meaning to ask. That favor you wanted, in exchange for the antidote. What did you want?"

He gave me a perplexed look and removed his glasses.

"You seem…eager to fill that favor."

"Well, you've done a lot for me, and I've done nothing for you. I just…it feels weird."

"You've been living with someone who can only measure in 'eye for an eye.' I'm not surprised."

He placed the tip of one of the earpieces to his glasses in his mouth and thought for a moment.

"How about you provide me with pleasant company, just as you're doing, and we'll call it even?"

"There's really nothing that you need?"

"No. Nothing."

I picked up my cup and turned to go back to the fireplace.

"Well, there is one thing…"

I looked back at him.

"Tea's gone cold," he said as he lifted his own mug.

I took the cup from him and left the room. In the kitchen, I filled the tea pot back up with water and placed it on the stove. While I waited for it to boil, I sat on the counter and stared outside. There were twinkling lights covering all the buildings, and the feint sound of carolers walking door to door. Down the hallway, Crane's henchmen sat around and laughed with one another. He had told them that they could go home to their families if they preferred. Most of them went, but those without families preferred to stay.

The pot began to whistle, and I poured fresh cups of camomile for the both of us. Back in his study, Crane stood leaning over the fireplace mantel. I placed the cup in his hand and cradled my own while I blew over the top. As he took a sip, the tune on the record player changed.

"Mm, I love this song."

He turned and placed the cup on top of the mantel.

"Do you dance?" He asked and placed a hand out towards me.

"Not really," I laughed.

"C'mon. No one's looking."

I put my cup down on a nearby table and placed my hand in his. He placed a hand on my waist, and I put mine on his shoulder. We rocked back and forth to the slow tempo and slowly turned in a circle. He quietly sang along to the song.

"_You can blame me. Try to shame me. And still I'll care for you. You can run around. Even put me down. Still I'll be there for you."_

As the chorus began, he gently dipped me down. He was careful, as he knew the accident had taken its toll on my body. I laughed and tilted my head back. I would have killed for this moment while I was in college, but now it was just a fun passing moment in time. I tipped back up and placed my hand back where it was before. It was like being in a weird cheesy rom com, but it was exactly what I needed after being stuck in a crappy situation for so long. Unfortunately, it wouldn't last.

A loud bang echoed down the hallway, followed by gun fire. I pulled away from Jonathan and immediately began to tremble.

"He's here…he found me," I whispered, panicked.

Jonathan turned off the record player.

"Under the desk. Hide."

I did what I was told and curled up underneath the desk, pulling the chair in in front of me. Crane took his place back at the fireplace. The door to the room suddenly busted open and slammed against the wall behind it.

"Evening, Crane."

I couldn't see him, but I could hear him. I curled up tighter in the corner of the desk and hugged my arms.

"Any reason you've decided to ruin my quiet evening?"

"Jonny, Jonny. Don't play stupid, I don't like it. Where is she?"

Jonathan laughed quietly. "I assume you're referring to Ms. Bennet? She hasn't been here. So, unless you'd like to try my Fear Toxin again, I suggest you leave."

"She hasn't…been here? Hm?"

I heard footsteps come closer. Through a gap at the bottom, I saw the heels of the Joker's shoes press up against the desk.

"No. She hasn't. Why would she? She still owes me after I gave her that antidote."

Outside of the room, I could hear the Joker's men rummaging through the rooms. Presumably, looking for me.

"Interesting that you would have two cups for just yourself. This one's still hot."

_Oh no._

"Boss," said Maurice's voice. "She's not in any of the other rooms."

"Well? Where is she hiding? The closet? The bathroom? Under the desk?"

My head shot up and I braced myself.

"Noo, no, no. Too obvious. Boys, why don't you go outside and make sure she didn't jump out the window?"

The men left the room and left the Joker and Jonathan alone.

"Nice little place you've got here, Jonny. It'd be a shame if," I could hear him flick his lighter. "It got torched. Looks like you've done a lot of work."

I could hear Jonathan approach him from the other side of the room.

"_Ahh tah tah. _Stay on that side. I wouldn't want to get gassed," he laughed.

"Do. Not. Light my things on fire," Crane demanded.

"Oh, sure. Just tell me where she is, and I'll spare your life's work."

Jonathan let out a frustrated grunt.

"I'm not gonna hurt her, Crane. I just wanna…_talk _to her."

There was silence between them.

"No? Okay."

"STOP!" Jonathan yelled out. "Under the desk."

"That so hard?"

I kicked the chair out and scurried out from underneath the desk. At the doorway, a loud _rat tat tat _sounded from behind me and chewed up the door frame. I covered my head and stopped. Slowly, he approached and placed a hand on my shoulder. He hit me over the head with the butt of his gun and I fell to the floor.

* * *

Headaches and body aches were a normal everyday occurrence in this life. The pain in my neck and arms shot down my torso. My hips felt like they were broken into a million tiny pieces. Beneath me, my legs dangled and cramped. I blinked my eyes and could barely make out a fuzzy figure sitting in front of me. My head tilted back and stared up at the ceiling. Above me, my hands were bound and chained to the wall. I shook and kicked and began to search for the ground with the tips of my toes.

The laughter began in front of me. There he was, sitting backwards in a chair while he worked on a cigar. I cried out in frustration and fear. He stood from the chair and tossed it aside. Once he was in front of me, he blew on the end of the cigar and tugged my head back. I whimpered and watched him. He lowered the cigar and pressed it into my neck. I screamed and struggled to get away.

"Does that _hurt_ Kay?"

I only continued to cry out in pain.

"DOES IT?" He yelled in my face.

"Yes! Yes, it hurts!" I sobbed.

"Good. Yooou and me. We're gonna have some fun."

He stuck the cigar back in his mouth and turned his back to me.

"Please," I whispered.

He looked over his shoulder.

"_Please_. Just kill me."

His jaw dropped and he licked at his scars as he chuckled.

"_Kill…_you," he said while he walked back towards me. "I don't think I will. I'd _miss _you too much, Kay. No. I think life is a better punishment. In fact, if I could wrap my hands around that pretty little neck of yours, strangle you to death, and resurrect you, I'd do it a million times over."

I dropped my head and let the tears come full force. He came closer and caressed my face with the back of his hand.

"_Shhhh sh sh. _None. Of that. You knew there were consequences, and I'm here to deliver them. And hopefully, you'll think next time before you do anything drastic."

He walked back to the other side of the room. A small _click_ could be heard, followed by the beginning of a song. He removed his jackets, slowly dancing to the song while he pulled them over his elbows and tossed them over the chair.

"Love this song, don't you?"

It took me a moment, but I finally recognized it.

_You can blame me_

_Try to shame me_

_And still I'll care for you_

He continued do dance as he approached.

_You can run around_

_Even put me down_

_Still I'll be there for you._

The switchblade clicked open. I turned myself and hid my face in the crook of my elbow.

_The world_

_May think I'm foolish_

_They can't see you_

_Like I can_

He removed his gloves and tossed them to the ground before taking a handful of my hair and pulling my head back. I stared at the ceiling while my tears trailed down my neck. He crumpled up his fist and punched me in the jaw. I watched the blood from my mouth splatter against the wall and floor.

_Oh, but anyone_

_Who knows what love is_

_Will understand_

The blade began to slice underneath my clavicle. I screamed in agony as he pulled it to the other side of my chest. He pressed his tongue against the wound and dragged it up to my neck beneath my ear. He sang along to the song while the tip of the knife trailed down my torso, tearing my shirt and cutting my skin underneath.

"_I just feel so sorry. For the ones who pity me. 'Cause they just don't know, oh they don't know what happiness love can be."_

He tore my shirt open the rest of the way and ran his finger over the superficial traces of blood that dribbled from my skin. His hand curled underneath my chin and raised pulled my head to look at him.

"_I know. I'll never let you go. For it's more than I could ever stand."_

He picked the cigar back up and puffed on it for a moment while he watched me bleed and cry.

_Oh, but anyone_

_Anyone who knows what love is_

_Will understand_

The cigar's end was firmly pushed into the freshly cut wound above my navel. This horrible pattern of cut and burn and punch would continue well into the night. All the while, the song played on repeat and he proceeded to serenade me. When the cigar was near its end, he dropped it on the floor and snubbed it with his shoe. I dangled from the wall, bleeding and bruised.

"You look like you need a break," he teased.

He pulled a small key from his pocket and reached up to my wrists. Once I was freed, I collapsed towards the floor. I was caught in his arms, and my body bent back like a raggedy doll. My arms hung by my sides and swung back and forth. While my legs grazed against the floor, he held on tight and rocked me back and forth to the tempo of that awful song. He bent forward and picked me up, throwing me over his shoulder. I watched the backs of his legs as he ascended the stairs to the fourth floor. He dropped me on top of the bed and bound my wrists behind my back.

Once he wrapped the duct tape around the final time, he moved my hair away from my ear and whispered to me.

"I know you're eager to continue, but I've got a date with a bat. In the meantime, you rest up. You've got a big day ahead of you."

He left small traces of saliva as he kissed my neck.

"Merry Christmas Kay," he giggled.

When he left the room, and he was well out of ear shot, I whispered to myself through my tears.

"Fucking psycho."


	15. Chapter 15

If I had known what I knew while I laid there with my arms bound, I would have left well enough alone. I never would have sedated him; I wouldn't have seduced him. He left me in that position – hurting, freezing, and starving, for what I think was two days. Every so often, he'd stand in the doorway of the bedroom and look at me for a few moments before leaving again, but he wouldn't say anything. Otherwise, I would often hear him in the sitting room, muttering and laughing to himself. He would leave during the evenings and come back during the early mornings just before daybreak.

I thought that maybe he was unsure of what to do with me at that point. He chose life as my punishment, he didn't actually say I'd be living it.

The cross-like cut that he had created over my torso was beginning to itch as it healed, and the burns from the cigar blistered and stung. I did my best to remain still while I laid there, occasionally turning to stare at the ceiling. And I kept quiet; I was too afraid to ask him for anything. I was too afraid to get up. Paranoid that, in his absence, he would know what I was up to. That he was _always_ watching me. He had closed the curtains to the bedroom window, so I couldn't look outside. He was aware that I enjoyed watching the snowfall.

Living was my punishment.

By the beginning of the third day, I was beginning to grow restless. My stomach ached from the hunger, and my thirst drove me stir crazy. I heard him snoring on the couch in the sitting room, so I thought it might be safe to sit up and make myself more comfortable. My wrists pulled in opposite directions, but I was unable to force them apart. Then, I thought of something. I could reach my wrists under my feet and pull them up in front of me. I had seen people do it before, but I'd never tried it myself. I plopped back down into the fetal position and squeezed my knees to my chest as tightly as I could. From there, my arms stretched down below my back, around by butt, and under my feet. I tried to continue, shimmying as far forward as I could. I got stuck just as my wrists passed over my ankles.

I panicked and rolled around on top of the bed, frantically trying to free myself. I couldn't be caught in this position. However, during my struggle, I hadn't noticed that the snoring had seized. In its place, I heard a high pitched, closed-mouth giggle coming from the other side of the room. I lifted my head to look at the doorway. He stood there, smiling at me. I dropped my head back onto the mattress and tried to move my arms back behind me. They wouldn't budge.

Then, there was a small click. A click that I had heard numerous times that had often filled me with dread. I lifted my head back up and peered over my shoulder. He was approaching with his switch blade exposed.

My body wiggled and shuffled in fearful anticipation.

"No, no, no!" I cried out. "No! I'm sorry! _Please, _I'm sorry!"

He grabbed onto one of my legs and pulled me towards him at the edge of the bed. I pressed my face into the sheets; I didn't want to see what he was about to do to me. I felt the knife drag across my face, but he didn't apply any pressure.

"Going somewhere?"

He pushed my shoulder down so I was laying on my back with my knees raised above my chest and my hands clasped above my feet. The blade moved down to my exposed torso and hovered over my healing cuts.

"I wasn't going to do _anything_, I just wanted to get up," I miserably moaned.  
"See, this is _familiar_, right? We've done this song and dance before Kay. You _cry _and _beg_, and I let you off with a slap on the wrist. Not this time. You're going to learn a lesson."

He pressed the knife downwards into my skin. I screamed and arched my back.

"I've learned my lesson!" I begged.

The knife continued to press down, and I cried out towards the ceiling. I felt him create a fresh slice over my ribs.

"I don't _apprecia-te_ disloyalty. Es-pecically. When I've been so _good_ to you."

I nodded in agreement and sobbed, "You've been good to me."

Conditioned and brainwashed, just the way he likes 'em.

"Then why did you run?"

_Because you're fucking insane._

"I told you why," I sniffed.

"You wrote a letter. Cowards write letters."

He cut deeper, lifted the knife, and continued to carve into my skin.

"Because _I am_ a coward. I'm scared!" I screamed.

He leaned forward and pushed my legs aside to settle down on top of me.

"What. Are we…afraid of?"

I turned my head as my bottom lip trembled. I wanted to push him off of me.

"Oh. Poor_ sweet_ Kay," he tisked. "You haven't seen how scary I _can _be."

I let out the breath I was holding and looked up at him.

He traced his finger up over my navel and hooked it under the front of my bra.

"Would you like me to show you?"

"No," I replied nervously.

He let the bra snap back against my skin and placed his hand underneath the back of my head. I was propped up to look at him. He flashed his ugly grin at me.

"Then stop testing my patience," he growled angrily. "Eventually…it'll run out."

My head dropped and bounced back to the top of the bed. He used the mattress to push himself back and cut the tape from around my wrists. I let my legs drop down the edge of the bed and began to rub my wrists with my hands. He stepped back and turned to leave.

"Wait," I squeaked after him.

He stopped and raised his head to the ceiling before turning back around.

"Yeeees?"

His tongue squirmed around his mouth while he impatiently waited for me to say something.

"_Why…_," I took in a breath. "Why am I still alive?"

He abruptly stopped licking and jerked his head to the side.

"I thought you said you read the notebook?"

"Not…all of it," I said slowly.

"Oh good. Then I won't spoil the ending for you."

"You can't possibly know how this is all going to end."

"No, but I've got a pretty good idea."

His social engineering project would eventually have to come to an end…wouldn't it? As I got up from the bed, I saw myself in the mirror on the other side of the room. I looked like I had been tossed into a garbage disposal full of angry grizzly bears. I pulled my shirt aside to examine the fresh cut that had been made over my ribs. Above the bloody drips that slowly traveled down over my hips, there was the letter "J" furrowed into my skin.

* * *

I watched the New Year ring in from the confines of the apartment. I wasn't allowed to leave the building, or the room. A locking mechanism was added to the outside of the door to keep me inside while he was away. I never imagined that I'd go back to being a prisoner, but I also supposed that it was my own fault for not thinking things through. I blamed myself for a lot of things that had occurred. I shouldn't have run from him at Herman's safe house, I shouldn't have driven in the snow, and I shouldn't have burdened Jonathan. It was all my fault. He was justified in keeping me behind locked doors.

In order to once again gain his favor, I was dutiful. I continued to fulfill my original purpose and drafted new ideas for explosives. When he was hungry, I fed him. When he was injured, I tended to his various traumas. When he was angry, I was his outlet. Anything that would eventually allow me to be freed from the room.

I had exchanged my torn shirt for one that he carried around in one of his bags. It was a collared dress shirt with horizontal blue and white stripes that had been crumpled up within a dark grey suit. I buttoned it up over my chest, rolled up the sleeves, and left it un-tucked. He had been preoccupied with Batman, so I was unsure if he had noticed. If he did, he didn't care.

While he was away, I'd tended to my own scrapes. I had all but soaked my cuts in peroxide, and afterwards would clean them out with soap and water. The letter J that he had so graciously drawn into me with the tip of his knife was beginning to scab and scar over at the ends. I continuously reminded myself that I was lucky he didn't cut my face in a similar fashion to his.

_It could _always _be worse._

Once the clock ticked midnight, bright fireworks flashed in the sky and confetti gracefully floated down from the sky. I sat in the window with my arms wrapped around my knees. In previous years, I had gone out with friends and partied all night. Tonight, I would wait inside while the Joker elicited havoc on the city. Up in the sky, the Bat's symbol hovered among the theatrics. He hadn't been sharing the details of his plans with me, so I wasn't sure how he would be torturing the poor citizens of Gotham in the wake of their celebrations.

I turned my back to the window and faced the sitting room. The television was barely audible over the pops, crackles, and police sirens wailing outside. The worst combination of feelings buzzed around in my head: boredom and restlessness. I almost wished that the boss would come back just so I would have something to occupy my time with. But it was still dark outside, and it would be hours before he returned.

I laid down on one of the leather couches, and just as I began to drift off, I heard a loud bang coming from one of the floors below. I switched off the TV and sat up to listen for more noises. Down the corridor, I could hear careful but heavy steps approaching. I thought of turning the light off in the room, but if they didn't see it from under the door, they had surely seen it from outside of the building. They may have even seen me sitting in the window earlier.

As I paced the room, I tried to think of a quick solution. The Joker had left me with nothing to defend myself in such an occasion. Any weapons that he hadn't taken with him were tucked away somewhere downstairs. I rushed to put on my shoes and went back to the window. There were no fire escapes to aid an escape, but there were small ledges underneath each of the windows. I carefully eased open one of the locks and stepped out into the frigid night. My feet took extra caution to not slip on the ice that had formed on top of the ledge before closing the window behind me. The fall would not have necessarily killed me, but it might have caused some permanent injuries. I crouched down out of sight.

Whoever was on the other side of the window was able to open the lock on the door fairly quickly. I heard them step inside the room and shift their weight as they looked around. They stepped closer towards the window and I curled myself up into a tight ball.

The clothing I was wearing did absolutely nothing to protect me from the elements – my teeth began to chatter, and my ears stung with every gust of wind that blew through me.

Once the footsteps moved away from the window, I slowly stretched upwards to look inside of the apartment. At the dining table, I could see Batman opening my large sketchbook and flipping through the pages. For a moment, I thought that that may have been my chance. I could have surrendered myself to him and begged him for help. But I didn't see him providing any other solution than to send me to Arkham for "rehabilitation." Afterall, justice was his favorite pastime, just as chaos was the Joker's.

I decided, instead, that I would stay out on the ledge like a coward and wait for him to leave. He wouldn't find anything that would give him any answers pertaining to the Joker, as the boss kept anything like that on his person. Even then, it was all cryptic.

There was a moment of silence, and I did my best to gauge where he was. It far too quiet. Maybe he had found the liquefied bodyguard? I pressed myself against the building and strained myself to listen.

Suddenly, the glass shattered, and his leather-clad glove reached down and grabbed hold of the back of my shirt. I squirmed and pushed away, slipping on the icy ledge. I slid out of his grasp and fell to the sidewalk below. I was lucky to have my fall broken by fresh snow and a pile of trash that sat next to the door. I say that somewhat sarcastically, because I was now wet and smelled like an old garbage can. My head spun for a moment as I forced myself up from the ground to start running away. From above, the Batman's iconic wings flapped open and allowed him to safely and gently float to the ground. Meanwhile, my legs pumped and slid on top of the iced-over sidewalks. At this point, I was debating whether it would have been more terrifying to be caught by the Bat, or the boss. Either way, I would be left in an unpleasant situation.

I kept to the main streets during the pursuit, hoping that it would deter him. At this point, he was still a topic of some controversy as the citizens of Gotham were apprehensive to accept a vigilante as their savior.

Neon lights and loud music flashed past me. I did my best to steer clear of running into anyone. There were looks of shock and awe from various people walking down the street that saw the large black figure running after me. Some cheered him on, others told me to run faster. Someone had even stepped in his path in order to trip him up, but he had pushed by them like they were nothing.

I ran straight into a busy street with traffic passing from both directions. Brakes squealed to quick stops and horns honked, garnering even more attention towards the escapade.

My legs began to ache, and my breath was becoming more and more labored. I would have to stop and rest sooner or later. But that's what the Bat was counting on. His endurance heavily out shined my own.

He was beginning to close the gap between us, and I needed to think fast. We were coming up to another crosswalk and intersection. From further back, it was difficult to see the oncoming traffic unless you were standing on the curb due to the buildings and people walking around. I timed it right and passed out of the way of a large sedan just in time. Batman was not as lucky, and clearly wasn't paying attention to anything but his goal. The sedan crashed into him, launching him into the street. I looked over my shoulder to see him gliding across the ice on his back.

I didn't stop to see if he would get up, I took it as my opportunity to put some space in between us and maybe disappear within the drunken crowds that were still out celebrating the new year. I listened for any explosions or police sirens that would maybe point me in the direction of the Joker. I thought that maybe I could meet up with them and explain the situation before he found that I was missing. I was _not_ going to spend more time chained to a wall or tied up.

I veered down an alleyway and sought out a dumpster. Once I found one, I opened the top and jumped inside. I already smelled like trash; it didn't really matter anymore. My chest heaved in and out as I tried to catch my breath. Outside of the dumpster, I heard heavy boots thump against the ground and pass the alleyway. I let out a heavy, relieved sigh and sat back in the filth.

Until the sun began to break under the horizon, I remained there. As long as the sun was up, the Bat wouldn't be. I pushed up on the top of the dumpster and peeked out. The streets were mostly empty, with the occasional car passing by. I crawled out and stood in the alleyway. My clothes were covered in some sort of dark brown goop. The smell was horrendous.

On my way back to the apartment, I walked slowly and pressed the buttons to wait for the crosswalks. There were people whispering to each other about me and giving me odd looks. I didn't really mind, I just wanted to get out of the cold. My gaze focused on the ground and hoped that no one would recognize me though my bruised face. I didn't want to run from the police as well.

He had chased me nearly six blocks away from the safe house, a little shy of a mile. I reached the front door just as the sun rose over the horizon, queuing the beginning of most people's workday. But not for us. I pushed on the door – it didn't budge. I slapped my open palm against it and waited for someone to answer. While I waited, I stepped back to look up at the window. It hadn't been covered, inviting the cold and snow to enter as it pleased. I saw a shadow pass by the glass; either they came back, or Batman was waiting for me.

The door finally opened. Maurice stared at me wide eyed for a moment before moving aside and finally allowing me to enter.

"Oh. We thought you ran again."

I shook my head. "No. The Bat was here last night. Where is he?"

"Upstairs."

I walked down the hallway to get to the stairs.

"Careful," he warned.

"I came back. He'll be fine."

I took my time going up the stairs, as I hadn't been particularly excited about seeing the boss. Who knew what sort of fresh hell would be waiting for me? I meekly pushed on the door and went inside the apartment. The table was flipped upside down, and pages of my sketchbook were torn out and strewn all over the floor, blowing around in the wind that came through the broken window. The room was freezing. In the kitchen, he leaned against the counter and smoked a cigarette.

"What. Do you-" He stopped when he turned around and saw me standing there.

He put the cigarette out on top of the counter and stepped around.

"Change of heart?" He said, slowly approaching.

I put my hands out in front of me and began to step backwards.

"Wait. It's not what you think," I began. "Batman was here last night. I ran from him, _not_ from you."

He pushed the door shut as he passed it and continued towards me. He glanced over at the broken window and then back at me.

"I'm not lying," I said desperately.

One side of his mouth turned up. He placed my chin in the space between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed my cheeks.

"I know you're not. You're a bad liar."

I looked over at the mess that he had made in my absence.

"You _were_ mad though."

His eyes slowly closed and opened again while his tongue flicked over his lip.

"Of course I was. I'm not done with you."

I laced my fingers around his hand and held it in front of my chest.

"I'm going to stand by you until you're done," I said as I looked into his eyes. "I just ask to be repaid with my freedom when all of this is over."

He sucked on his cheeks and looked down towards the floor, the gears turning and grinding inside of his head. Sometimes, I wished I could read his mind. His mouth had suddenly jerked up into a devilish grin.

"Yooou. Have my word. Once I'm done, you can leave and go wherever your little heart desires."

His hand pulled back.

"But," he said as he held a finger up in front of him. "Would you be able to stay away?"

I nodded, "Yes. I could."

His expression softened and he tilted his head.

"We'll see," he gently chuckled. "In the meantime, you smell bad. Go shower."

I went downstairs and did what he had asked me.


	16. Chapter 16

I sat on the edge of one of the couches while I watched the Joker's men cover up the window the Bat had broken. As I toweled my hair, the boss's hands animated his terrible new scheme as he spoke. He wanted to continue messing with the mob's money so he could continue with his own ventures.

"…and since we were…unable to stop Maroni's transaction with the Chechen," he began as he glared at me from the corner of his eye. "We. Will. Remove the dealers from the equation instead."

Maurice turned to look at him. "Wouldn't they tip each other off if they all started disappearing?"

The Joker pointed an index finger towards him and clicked his tongue. "That's why we're upping the ante. We get them in on the action. They turn on one another, then on Maroni. No stragglers. No tips. No. Problems."

"What's going to make a bunch of drug dealers want to ditch Maroni?" Another one of the goons asked.

"I can be…_very _persuasive," he said as he squeezed my leg.

I looked down at him for a moment; he winked at me.

"So where do we start?" The goon asked.

"You will all take a different section of the city and approach the dealers there. Invite them back here. One. By. One."

"How are we supposed to persuade them to come here?" I asked.

"Well…_ahem…_first, _you_ don't have to worry about that. You're sitting this one out. You all," he said pointing to his men. "on the other hand, we'll talk."

They silently nodded in unison as if it was the most sensible thing they'd ever heard. I was much more concerned. A building full of armed, on-edge drug dealers, what could go wrong?

"Get the word out."

They finished covering the window and left us alone. Once the door shut, he turned to me.

"This place needs to go down."

"With all of us inside?" I asked nervously.

_He's going to get us killed._

He leaned forward and reached for me.

"Kay," he said as he took my hand in his. "My _little _minx! I'm not playing on tilt here. I said I still _needed _you, and I meant it. You've got a. Loooong, long way to go."

His purple leathered hand patted the top of mine as he looked up at me from under his eyebrows.

"What do you propose?"

He shook his head. "You survived one explosion; you can survive another."

I took my hand back and placed my elbows on my knees. My hands wrapped around the back of my neck. I needed to believe that he wasn't going to get me killed, for my own sake. He keeps his word, even if it's not what you initially expect.

"Batman intervened last time," I sighed.

His hand grabbed onto my shirt and pulled me down onto the couch next to him. While I settled in, he placed his head in my lap

"Don't be so nervous. Aaalll you've got to do is stand there and look pretty. Ab-so-lutely. Fool-proof."

I was understandably skeptical, but I wouldn't have any choice but to play along. I rested my head on the back of the couch and looked up at the ceiling.

"How much longer are you going to keep this up?" My fatigued voice exasperated.

He sat up, supporting himself with an arm braced next to my leg, and with his face close to mine.

"This is just the beginning. But believe me when I say…you're going to want to stick around for the ending."

I reached up and moved hair away from his face.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He made a slow nod and eyed my hand movements.

"What's in it in all of this for you? Why bother?"

That familiar obnoxious laugh burst forth from his mouth. The space between us closed; he pressed his forehead into mine.

"You haven't been paying attention. Look at what I'm doing here. I'm taking _everyone's _notions of right-versus-wrong and turning it all in on itself."

"What does the mob have to do with that? From the outside, this looks like a suicide mission."

He sighed and gently closed his eyes.

"Let's take you…as an example. You were blowing people up. All the while, you _thought_ you were still a good person. Why? 'Cause you never saw it happen. You were. Never. Present. So then what? You come into contact, with a guy like me, and suddenly, you're a _blood thirsty animal_," his voice changed pitch and quivered between growls and squeaks. "Your ferocity comes out in full force. All you needed…was…an introduction. A push in the right direction. That's what this city needs. A push. The mob? I've already told you, we're working. Our way. Down."

Visions of the city set aflame and people running each other down passed in front of me as I looked into his eyes. Like a shark's, they were dead and black. He spoke and gestured emotively, but his eyes never retained the same liveliness.

"I did those things because you asked me to."

He bit his lip and giggled softly.

"I asked you to beat someone with a bat? Hm? To point a gun at my head? See, some of these things, you did _aaalllll _on your own. I'm revealing the path to you…the _real_ you. The _real_ Gotham."

This supposed epiphany was a heavy struggle in my mind. It couldn't have been true. He didn't reveal the path, he brainwashed me…right?

"But I'm not-"

"Shhhh," He quietly hushed me. "Don't think about it."

With his eyes wide open, he pressed his lips onto mine and stared into my eyes all the while. It might have been funny if it wasn't so uncomfortable, and I didn't dare laugh. I should have just been thankful that the intimate moments had returned, because they were a distraction for his furious outbursts. Also, because they were less painful than the outbursts…most of the time.

He moved back and placed both hands on my face. His thumbs rubbed back and forth over my cheeks.

"We'll…continue this later. We've got a get together to plan."

* * *

On the afternoon of the dealers' arrival, I woke on the couch to a stern knock on the door. I rolled over and groaned, but didn't answer. The knocking began again, this time faster and louder.

We had spent two days prior placing charges on each of the floors and building a detonator that could be easily concealed. We settled on one that resembled a shock-gag. One that would stretch around the Joker's hand, and the button would rest in his palm. We set it up so we would have an opportunity to exit through the back of the building, and two explosions would occur with time in between. Whether he had shared this information with the rest of the guys, I wasn't sure. And as fool-proof as the boss had made it seem, I still had my concerns.

"Ugh! Hold on!" I yelled to the visitor.

I sat up and covered my nudity with a blanket I'd wrapped around myself.

"Come in," I said grumpily.

One of the goons walked in and stood behind the couch so he could avoid looking at me.

"Boss wants you to come downstairs. Says he needs to go over a few things."

I groaned again and rolled my eyes.

"Ugh. He fucks you, then won't let you sleep afterwards."

The goon didn't say anything.

"Sorry," I said. "You probably didn't need to hear that."

"No…I didn't.

I shrugged.

"Alright. Well, get out so I can put some pants on."

He closed the door behind him, and I dropped the blanket to get dressed. On my way down the stairs, I lit a cigarette and slowly puffed on it. I stopped dead in my tracks at the end of the stairway. The tables were pushed together, and in the middle of them was a large dancer's cage with a lock hanging from the door. A thick chain attached to the top of the cage that disappeared in the darkness as it traveled up towards the ceiling.

"What the hell is that?"

The Joker spun around and motioned for me to come closer.

"This. Is where we'll put Maroni after he's dethroned."

We stood shoulder to shoulder while he admired the cage.

"You want him on display?"

"Ex-actly," he said as he placed an arm around my waist. "Just for his men to see."

I leaned into his pull and placed a hand on the side of his chest. While I watched Maurice put the final touches on the cage, I saw him glance over at us and shake his head. On the other side of the room, the other goons openly glared as well. I opened my mouth to say something, but the boss stopped me before I could get a syllable out.

"Ignore it. It's not important."

I nodded and shifted my weight back uncomfortably.

"You and I are going to celebrate before we…kick things off."

He led me to the back of the main room and opened a long wooden door. Behind it, there was a decent sized space with a round table inside. On top, there was a white tablecloth with a bottle of wine and a platter with various meats and cheeses. There were two chairs, and a stark, white light hung over the table.

He pulled out one of the chairs and motioned for me to sit.

"What is all this?" I asked.

"The boys set it up."

I eyed him suspiciously while he popped open the bottle and poured me a glass of wine. He sat down at the table and reached for a piece of cheddar from the tray. I sat back in my chair and swirled my glass.

"You ready for tonight?" He asked as his lips smacked.

I took a large gulp from the glass and swallowed hard, "I suppose. Did you tell them that the building is going down?"

The boss shook his head, "No. Can never be too careful."

I downed the rest of the wine in the glass and poured myself another.

"You want them to go down with Maroni and his guys?"

He cracked a smile and continued to loudly chew. I took another sip.

"No one will want to work for you if you keep getting them killed," I pointed out.

"There's enough blood in this town to keep running."

I started to feel a small buzz; I turned the wine bottle around so I could see what it was, but there was no label.

"I'm confused," I started. "Why go through all of the trouble of bringing them here, just to blow them up, lose the building, and lose your own men?"

"We're cleaning house. Two birds, one stone. We find a Bat-free place, we get a new crew, and we get rid of Maroni."

"Three birds," I said.

"Even better."

I picked up a piece of salami from the tray and took a bite.

"You've got an answer for everything, don't you?" I joked.  
"Almost. I haven't mastered space travel yet."

I started to laugh but stopped abruptly. The room spun around me.

"Something wrong?"

"The wine. I think. It's going straight through me."

I shook my head and put the glass down on the table.

"What do you offer these guys? Y'know, to get them to join you?"

"The keys to freedom," he giggled. "Lawlessness. Same thing I offered you."

"If I remember correctly, you actually offered me a ton of money and then never paid up."

These moments, the ones where we spoke like old friends, seem so strange in hindsight. I still felt comfortable speaking and interacting with him after everything that had happened. I guess if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

I rolled up my sleeves and pulled a pack of cigarettes from my pocket; I lit one for the Joker and handed it off to him before lighting one for myself. A cloud of smoke began to form and rose above us. I looked up at him and his permanent smile. A small laugh came from me.

"Something funny?" He asked while more smoke spilled from his mouth.

I crossed my arms in front of me and exhaled, "It's strange. Where we end up. Y'know? I never imagined I'd ever be here. By this point, I thought I'd be living in a place on the nice side of town and driving a nice car."

"Life…is a funny little thing, Kay. Mostly disappointing. But! Once you learn to…let go, it gets easier."

I swallowed hard and looked up at him.

"Were you always like this? Nihilistic, I mean."

I had always wanted to ask him about himself, but I was highly unsure of how he would react. Lately, I've learned to take him at face value and let the whole thing go.

"None of it matters," he said. "My past is irrelevant, just like your need to understand."

I laughed through my nose and stared off to the other side of the room. My vision began to blur.

"Where the hell did they get this bottle?"

I stood to pick up and inspect the bottle again but received an immediate head rush. My legs gave out from underneath me and I collapsed to the floor. The Joker stood from his chair, slowly approached, and kneeled beside me. I heard him speaking, but all I could make out is grumbles and jumbled words. His hands slapped the sides of my face. The sight of him dissipated from my vision and I passed out.

* * *

For as many times during that campaign that I had passed out, blacked out, or got knocked out, it's a miracle that I don't have severe brain damage. Or, maybe I do, and I'm just blissfully unaware of it. Regardless, waking up after one of these episodes was always miserable. The grogginess, the uncertainty enveloped by fear, and the nausea. The nausea was always the worst.

A bright light shined in my eyes and forced me to wake. Immediately in front of me were thick bars that continued above my head and below my feet, attaching to the base that I hovered over. My limp body turned in a circle, and the bars seemed to follow. A chill came over me, and I saw that I'd been stripped down to my bra and underwear. I was in the cage that was meant for Maroni.

Behind the bars, I could see a crowd of faces staring back and yelling towards the cage. Among the faces, I recognized Maurice and the other goons. Beyond them, I saw that the dealers had, in fact, arrived at the safe house. I looked above me to see that my wrists were chained and attached to the top of the cage. I kicked up my legs and fought to free myself from the cuffs.

As I swung back and forth, I bumped into something behind me. I turned myself and was brought face to face with the Joker. His head was slumped forward, and his mouth and nose were dripping with blood. He was chained up like I was but was tall enough for his feet to touch the base of the cage.

"Boss?!" I cried out. "BOSS!"

I lifted my legs and pushed him with my feet to wake him. There was no movement, no indication that he felt me kick. The crowd surrounding us began to rouse and yell, seemingly cheering. I looked beyond the boss to see Maurice approaching the cage.

"He's dead, Kay. We're in charge now."

I looked back at the Joker and screamed. My body began to squirm around again in a sad attempt to be set free.

"Stop, Kay. Maroni's on his way for you now. Don't fight it."

"Why?" I whispered.

"He had to be stopped. He was out of control."

"Maurice. _Please. _Don't let them take me. Please."

"Sorry, Kay. You chose him."

"No! I didn't. I didn't choose any of this!"

He shook his head and walked away from the cage.

"Maurice!" I yelled after him.

I kicked the bars on the cage and screamed. The dealers and goons approached to look at the Joker's dangling body and to hurl insults at me. I turned towards the boss and hid my face in his coats. I sobbed into his chest and cursed him.

"How did you not anticipate this?" I whispered to the corpse. "You know everything…You. Know. _Everything_."

My voice faltered and my eyes soaked his shirt. I had no idea what Maroni would do with me, but I did know that I was safer with the Joker…subjectively.

There were hands reaching through the bars on the cage, scratching at my skin and pulling at my hair and undergarments.

"Hey!"

The crowd nearly instantly fell silent. I pulled away from the Joker to see the source of the voice. At the entrance stood Sal and his entourage. My heart sank into the pit of my stomach. In a last-ditch attempt, I wrapped my ankles around one of the bars and pulled downwards. Once I realized that, for sure, I wasn't going anywhere, I gave up and allowed my limp body to dangle.

"Kay," Sal said as his head shook slowly. "I'd hoped that it wouldn't come to this."

"It doesn't have to," I responded. "He's dead. There's no one to pull my strings."

He laughed softly, "Take some responsibility. He wasn't accountable for everything you've done."

"I-"

"I told you," another voice sounded. "They've got each other's backs until they're backed up against the wall."

I squinted my eyes to look behind Sal. The Creep. Dennis. Stepped out from behind Maroni and approached the cage.

I laughed, "You're such a little bitch, you had to wait until he was dead to show your face again?"

He pressed his face between two of the bars and glared up at me. His eyes surveyed my half-naked body as he bit his lip.

"Boss. Let me have her first," he said to Maroni.

I reeled back and spit in his face. He used his sleeve to wipe my slobber from between his eyes.

"You're going to wish you never did that," he warned.

Behind him, Sal placed a hand on Dennis's shoulder.

"That's enough. Go have a drink with the boys."

He watched Dennis walk away and turned back towards me.

"I don't want to hurt you Kay. But this guy, this…Joker. He's caused too much upset, and you're a part of that."

"I'm _not_ him Sal. What do you think he would have done to me if I hadn't done what he asked? What would you have done?"

  
"I would have walked away before it got out of control. Dennis told me everything. You nursed him, saved him, then became his buddy."

"It was much, much more complicated than that. Dennis doesn't know everything. Believe me."

"Doesn't matter. You released him back into the city. You had a choice. You're responsible."

I let my head drop and I looked down at my feet for a moment.

"Let me speak to Carmine. I can fix this."

"You can't. Carmine is still in Arkham, and he's not getting out any time soon."

I raised my head to the ceiling and let out a deep sigh.

"Besides, Carmine wouldn't save you from this either. If it were up to him, you'd be dragged by your feet down to the Croc."

Dying in the same manner that my parents did had probably seemed like some sort of divine justice.

I fell silent.

"Boys! Let's enjoy this evening."

He smiled at me before turning and walking away from the cage. The surrounding crowd admired the Joker's corpse and my anguished state. I spun myself back around and moved in close to the boss. I pushed myself in tighter and tighter into his chest; I wanted to drown out the noise around me. I could almost hear the Joker's belittling cackles mocking my cries. But I pressed tight to him. I sought comfort from a dead body.

In that moment, I wished that he would pull my hair or place his hands on my face and tell me how dumb I am. Anything. Because even if this quest for bullshit continued, he'd know how to get out of this situation. I still had that faith in him. I thought about the conversation I had had with Dent in the hospital. His mouth adorned by his bulky cleft chin mimed the words: _Stockholm Syndrome._

"Boss, I think there's something wrong with me," I muttered slowly.

Behind me, the two combined groups drank together and threw their empty cans at the cage. By the end of the first hour, I was soaked in residual beer. My arms were aching, and every so often I would use the boss's body as leverage so I could give them a break. Otherwise, I dangled in agony and watched them celebrate the downfall.

Once the crowd lost interest in myself and the Joker, Dennis separated himself from them and came towards me. He stepped close to the cage with his hands behind his back and shot me a smug, closed mouth grin.

"What do you want creep?"

"You know, you should be nicer to me Kay."

I quietly laughed, "Why is that? You're out there…"

As my body spun around the cage, I bent myself backwards so I could continue to look at him.

"…I'm in here."

His smile grew wider, and from behind his back he produced a set of keys. My smile dropped and I spun around towards the entrance of the cage. He turned the key in the lock, and it dropped to the floor. I picked my feet up from the ground and planted them firmly on the bars that made up the door. His shoulder pressed into the other side, and I struggled to keep him out. When he got tired of fighting against me, he pulled a knife from his jacket and flashed it at me. I dropped my legs from the door, and it slowly swung open. Once there was enough space, I quickly kicked back up, and the door caught him in the face. I began cackling as he held his bleeding nose.

Dennis angrily pushed the door open and came towards me. His fist jerked back, and he brought it forward full force into my mouth. My head flew back – splattering blood on the Joker's face and clothing. I remained in a backwards arch, staring at the blood and spit dripping down from the boss's forehead and cheeks. I felt Dennis reaching above me to unlock the chain, keeping the handcuffs in place. My arms dropped in front of me, and he threw me over his shoulder. I didn't kick, I didn't even scream. I accepted my fate as he walked up the stairs with me. I closed my eyes and silently prayed to whatever entity was listening that Dennis would do what the Joker had refused me.

As we reached the top of the first flight, a loud explosion erupted from two floors above. Dennis stopped, dropped me, and ducked down. I tumbled down the stairs and slammed against the wall at the end of the staircase. My lungs wheezed; I spit blood out onto the floor and rolled over. The room went still and silent. No one made a move, no one reacted. Then, the giggles began. They echoed throughout the room and escalated to full howls in the darkness.

The flood lights switched on and revealed that the cage was now empty. I turned over and placed my back against the wall. At the top of the flight of stairs, Dennis stood with his hands raised over his head. Behind him was Maurice with a gun pointed at the back of his head. He winked at me. I shook my head and pushed myself up from the ground.

On the second story, the railing was lined with men holding guns down on the crowd. I started to laugh and looked towards Maroni. He stood at the edge of the horde with his hands on the top of his head. He narrowed his eyes at me as I approached.

"Sal. You fell for this…twice. In the _same_ building," I laughed hysterically. "How does that feel?"

"You're making a big mistake," he replied.

"We'll see," I nodded.

The guttural laugh that seemed to have no source point came closer to the crowd and drifted out of existence. From behind the cage, the Joker stepped around. His smile was wide and threatening. He won, and he was so proud of himself.

"You're an ass," I said to him.

He chuckled as he came closer.

From above, another explosion rang out, causing the Joker to duck down. He squinted and looked upwards, then down at the detonator in his palm. The explosion wasn't anything that we had planted.

A sound that was like a flag flying in the wind broke the silence, and I screamed as I was pulled speedily up towards the ceiling.


	17. Chapter 17

"Take me back!" I yelled.

I lifted my legs and kicked at the door of Batman's militarized vehicle.

"You're unwell," he growled. "You need help."

I sat back in the seat and looked over at him.

"And you think that _that_ place is going to help me?" I scoffed. "You don't know anything about Arkham, do you?"

He eyed me from the side of his tight, black cowl.

"I know that it's better than sticking you in Blackgate. You're not a criminal. You're sick."

I looked down at my cuffed wrists.

"Where do you draw the line? What if you're sick? Are you going to commit yourself?"

A small laugh pushed through his nose, but he didn't respond to my question.

The cruiser bumped and rattled as we passed over the bridge that lead to Arkham Asylum. Large dead trees and vegetation skirted the pathway up to the hospital's tall, looming gates. The sky overhead boasted a large red-tinted moon that followed us through wispy winter clouds.

I pulled my legs into my chest and covered myself with a blanket that had been provided to me by the Bat. Once we passed the gate, I stared up at the dark gothic architecture of the asylum. Its dark history and reputation were only upheld by its depressing appearance. If the city truly cared about the mentally ill, the place would have been shut down decades ago. Many of the inmates of the asylum were on a revolving door system – and almost immediately went back. This was brought about by the lawyers in Gotham, who were very good about playing the insanity cards for their defendants. Maybe some of them were insane, but the institution wasn't doing much to help these people and it showed.

He stopped the vehicle in front of the tall front doors of the hospital and put it in park.

"This works better for the both of us if you cooperate."

I leaned back against the headrest and stared at the roof of the car.

"Aye, aye captain," I replied stoically.

He got out of the driver's seat and walked around the front, fixing his eyes on me the whole time. The passenger's side door opened, and he held his hand out to help me up. I ignored it like the petty individual I am and stood to get out on my own. The wind blew the blanket around my frame and bit at my exposed feet and ankles. Above us, the building stood tall and intimidating. Many of the windows were illuminated in an orange-yellow hue, making the place look more like a haunted house than a haven for the mentally ill.

Batman pushed one of the doors open and guided me inside. In the main room was a lobby with old, worn out furniture that looked like it belonged in a Victorian era museum. Further past the lobby was a reception desk behind thick glass. When we were closer, the receptionist looked up to acknowledge us.

"How can I-" she trailed off.

Her eyes grew wide and stared at me. I looked back at her with a perplexed glare. She reached into a drawer of the desk and produced a radio.

"Batman brought us Kay Bennet. I repeat, Kay Bennet is on the premises."

I tilted my head up to the Bat.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked.

"All of Gotham knows who you are," he replied. "If you wished to remain anonymous, you should have let me help you in the first place."

I narrowed my eyes at him and turned back towards the receptionist. She was still gawking at me like my head was on fire.

"Boo!" I said, suddenly lurching towards the window.

She gasped and stepped back, nearly tripping over her chair.

The doors to the side of the reception area burst open, and multiple personnel hurried out. A group of security guards followed by a man in a white lab coat turned to address us. Batman separated himself from me and stood off to the side. The security guards pointed their guns at me while the doctors slowly approached.

"She's not armed," Batman said. "She's barely clothed."

One of the doctors reached out and pulled the blanket aside to confirm what the Batman had just said and nodded.

"Put down your weapons," he said. "Kaylin Bennet?"

"Apparently," I replied.

"My name is Dr. Benjamin Stoner. I was hoping you and I would meet one day."

"Why's that?"

"I want to help you."

I opened my mouth to say something facetious but withdrew.

"Your treatment depends on you and your cooperation."

I smiled at him but remained silent.

"Alright then," he said. "I think we've got it from here."

He turned to Batman who nodded back at Dr. Stoner. The Bat stepped forward to remove the cuffs from my wrists.

"Get better Bennet, get your life back on track."

"I'm not sick, but thanks."

Stoner placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Denial doesn't help us in our time of healing, Ms. Bennet."

I sighed and kept my head down while he led me though the double doors next to the reception desk. The inside of the facility was a stark contrast from the outside. The walls were covered in blinding white tiles that gleamed under the overhead lights. We came to the end of the hallway where there were barred windows overlooking a courtyard in the middle of the facility. The good doctor turned us down another corridor. Behind us, the security guards followed with their weapons at the ready.

"Is that really necessary?"

"They're here to protect both of us."

"What am I gonna do? Flash you to death? And why would I need protection?"

"Your employer…he has enemies here."

He pushed open another set of double doors that were labeled "Restricted" in large red lettering. On the other side were rows of doors on either side of the hallway. The hallway echoed with incoherent screams and yells coming from multiple unseen sources. As I passed by them, I could see small windows where the occasional face would be staring back and watch us make our way down the hallway. The faces were a combination of rough looking men and women.

"Are men and women not separated?"

"They're separated by the cells. That's plenty."

We stopped at an empty cell at the end of the hallway and waited for the guards to open the door. Over my right shoulder, I saw another face staring through a window. This one was aged and looked like he had been at the asylum for a long time. His hair was streaked with silver, his skinny face was peppered with a five o'clock shadow, and under his eyes were large lavender bags. One side of his mouth turned up as I looked at him. We caught each other's eye, and I couldn't look away.

"Ms. Bennet."

The doctor got my attention and handed me an orange jumpsuit, white shoes, socks, a change of underwear, and a long-sleeved shirt.

"Please change and knock on the window to let us know when you're finished."

I nodded and turned to take another quick glance at the skinny man. He was gone.

The inside of my cell continued the theme of white. There was a thick mattress on the floor and a neatly folded blanket sitting on top of it. There were no sheets or pillows. To the side of the room was a stainless-steel toilet with a sink mounted into the top. I already felt like I was in prison. I stepped out of sight of the window and dropped the blanket before stepping into the ugly neon orange jumpsuit. I quickly dressed and rolled up the sleeves of the jumpsuit, exposing the sleeves of the undershirt on my arms.

The window's glass was so thick, it barely made a noise when I knocked on it. A security guard opened the door and gestured for me to step through. Another guard approached with a set of four cuffs, each attached by long chains.

"Hold your hand out," he demanded gruffly.

I did as I was told and held my hands out in front of me. He fastened two of the cuffs around my wrists, then bent forward to wrap two more around my ankles. While I was being chained, I took another look towards the cell across from me. The skinny man stood to the side of the window, almost as if he were hiding from me. He pressed his forehead against the door, and half of his face was visible from behind the glass. I squinted my eyes at him in order to silently let him know I could see him; it didn't matter. He kept watching.

"Looks like I've already made a friend."

"Huh?"

The guard stood and turned to look at what I was staring at. He approached the inmate's door and slapped the window. The skinny man startled as if he didn't notice the guard approach.

"Hey! Back up! It's lights out anyway."

He childishly made a face at the guard before slowly backing away from the window. His icy blues made one more piercing stare at me before the room went dark.

"Ignore him. He's old news."

"Who is he?" I asked.

The guard ignored my question and gestured for me to move along the hallway. We passed many more corridors that held Gotham's mentally scarred. At the end of our journey, the guards led me into a small room.

"We'll catch up in the morning," said Dr. Stoner. "You will begin your therapy sessions and given a tour of the grounds. In the meantime, do try to behave yourself."

"Sounds…good. I guess," I replied slowly.

One of the guards stood outside the door, while the other hurried me inside of the room. In the room, there was a small desk with a computer. The computer was attached to a camera that was pointed towards a wall with numbers painted onto it.

"Stand in front of the wall," instructed the guard.

I once again did what I was told and stood with my back against the dirty light-blue wall. While he fiddled around with something on top of the desk, I tilted my head up at the ceiling. At the top of the opposite wall was another camera pointed straight at me. Everything and everyone were staring at me that evening; I felt more like a science experiment than an inmate. I stuck my tongue out at the camera and looked back down at the guard at the desk. Moments later, he handed me a small dry erase board with my name and inmate number hastily written on it. My mugshot was taken, and I was sat down in front of the computer afterwards.

"State your name."

"Shouldn't you have done this before the picture was taken?"

He sighed and shot me an apathetic expression.

"Look, can we just get this done? I had plans after work. Which, by the way, ended a half an hour ago. No thanks to you."  
I laughed, "I'm not the one who brought me here. Thank Batman."

He slowly blinked and continued to glare.

"Kaylin Bennet," I said.

"Great," he said in a sarcastic tone. "Date of birth?"

"April 6, 1981."

A machine to the side of the computer screeched, and out popped a small card with my picture, name, and inmate number on it.

"Bennet, you're inmate number 0801. Don't forget it. You'll need it to see your psychiatrist, to eat, get your meds, everything."

"Alright," I said as I attached the ID to my jumpsuit.

He stood from the desk and reached to turn the computer off. "Normally you'd be sent for a tour of the facility, but because it's late, you're going back to your cell. It's bedtime for inmates."

The once blindingly bright hallway was now dimmed and grey. The few lights that were left on flickered overhead, creating a horror movie-esque ambiance. Before I was placed back into my cell for the evening, the guards removed the cuffs from around my wrists and ankles.

"You'll be picked up tomorrow for your eval at around 8 am. Try to be ready before then."

I nodded and backed up into the dark cell. They closed the door in front of me and walked back down the long lonely hallway. I turned away from the window and slid down the door. Once the coast was clear, I rested my head onto my forearms and began to sob.

* * *

Through the small window in my cell, the sun shined and blared against the white walls, nearly blinding me as I woke. The analog clock near the door showed that it was only 7:30 am. I pulled the thin blanket over my head and rolled over in the bed. Fifteen more minutes couldn't hurt when getting ready would consist of peeing and splashing water on my face. I closed my eyes and imagined myself in a different setting, thousands of miles away from Gotham and its inhabitants.

A manic laugh suddenly echoed in the hallway and jerked me from my daydream.

"Boss?" I called out.

I pulled the blanket away and got up from the bed to look out the window in the door. Across the hall, the skinny man was being put in cuffs. He was laughing hard while the guards readied him. Once he realized I was staring, he slowed his laughter to small chuckles and grinned up at me. The wrinkles in his face turned upwards and his eyes widened. I was able to get a better look at him. He appeared to be in his late 50's to early 60's. He was tall, and almost frail looking. His clothes were baggy and hung off of his emaciated frame. His salt and peppered hair was slicked back and curled around the base of his neck.

I ducked down under the window and sat on the floor of the cell. I was equal parts disappointed by the fact that the boss hadn't come for me and intrigued by my neighbor across the hall.

After a short moment of quiet contemplation, there was a loud rapping on the cell door.

"Bennet! Time to go!"

I stood up from the floor and once again faced the window; waiting for the guard to open the door. In a similar fashion to the evening prior, they approached me with the cuffs and placed them around my extremities. After I was properly secured, I was guided down the hallway to a section of the hospital that I hadn't seen the night before. Although, if I hadn't been aware that I was going a different direction, I wouldn't have known that it was a different section. It was still the same creepy blank white. Through more double doors and near the end of another passage was a room with a table that had a chair on either side of it.

"Sit."

I sat down in the chair that could be seen from the door. The chains attached to my ankles were anchored to a thick metal ring on the floor.

"Wait here. Dr. Stoner will be in soon."

"Okay…I'll just…wait here."

_Like I've got any other choice._

The guards stood on the outside of the door, occasionally looking back at me through the window while I waited for the doctor to show. I fidgeted with the chains around my wrists and stared down at the floor. Beneath me, there were scuff marks that suggested a struggle had occurred at some point. I thought that it may have been the reason for the chain anchors on the floor.

The clock on the wall read 8:15 am when the doctor finally arrived. He held a clipboard and a file folder underneath one arm and a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Good morning, Ms. Bennet. I hope you slept well."

"As well as I could, considering."

He smiled and sat down across from me.

"Well, let's get right into it."

"Okay. First off, I'm confused as to why I'm here."

Dr. Stoner took a sip of his coffee and opened the folder on the table.

"According to my records, you were deemed mentally unfit to go to Blackgate during your brief stay at Gotham General."

I smiled and looked up at the ceiling.

"And what was my diagnosis?"

He stared at the file for a moment before shifting his eyes back towards me.

"I'm not comfortable saying until I've made my own diagnosis."

"That's…bullshit. That's _my_ medical record. I have a right to know what's in it."

"You're an inmate. You have no rights here."

My mouth dropped open.

"You realize that I have a JD, right? I could take this whole place down and you along with it."  
He calmly placed the folder down on the table and folded his hands together.

"You'd have to find someone willing to listen to you in order for that to happen. Besides, who would believe you?"

My hands clenched into fists on top of the table. He looked down at them and smiled.

"Are we going to have a problem? Will I have to sedate you?"

I had wished that the boss were there with me, whispering instructions into my ear. I unclenched my hands and placed them flat on the table in front of me.

"No. No problem," I said softly.

"Good. Let's begin."

* * *

After an underwhelming breakfast of plain oatmeal and coffee, I was sent to a large room for what they called "recreation time." There were board games and cards set up at various tables, a few televisions, and a ping pong ball table off to one wall. On the opposite wall, there was a small bookcase with numerous tattered looking novels and children's books. The middle of the room was set up as a lounge with large cushioned chairs. And, if you could take a guess at what color the room was, you'd be one hundred percent wrong if you said it was anything but white. The white was making my eyes burn.

It felt strange to be in a room full of other inmates without any chains or cuffs. There were guards outside of the doors and inside of the room. They didn't speak to each other, nor did they speak to any of the inmates. They simply stood and watched. I was surprised, as Arkham had a notorious reputation for escaped patients.

I was an awkward addition to the room, I didn't know anyone, and it seemed like most people had their own cliques. There were a few stragglers here and there, along with the skinny man sitting with his face nearly pushed up against a television screen. I picked up a book from the shelves and sat down with my legs crossed underneath me in one of the cushioned armchairs in the middle of the room.

The book had engrossed my attention for quite some time before I had realized that there was someone sitting next to me. I looked to my left to see the skinny man slumped down in his seat and resting his head on top of one of his long arms that stretched across the arm of the chair. His mouth stretched into a creepy grin while his eyes lit up and widened.

"Um…hi?" I said uncomfortably.

He looked over his shoulder before addressing me.

"You're Kay, right?" He asked in a quiet, raspy voice.

"Yeah."

"Did you know that your boss is an imposter?"

"Excuse me?"

His arm dropped to his lap and he looked around the room.

"I know they say that imitation is a sincere form of flattery, but if I was still out there, I'd do things differently."

I closed my book and set it down on my lap. I looked back at one of the guards and back to the skinny man.

"I-um-I'm not sure what you're talking about."

His legs started to bounce, and he placed his hands behind his head.

"I guess I'm not surprised," he said. "I'm old news." His sentences were long, drawn out, and sounded tired.

He seemed to stare off into space while his mouth scrunched up to one side. There was something _really_ off about him. Not off like the boss, the boss wasn't mentally ill (depending on who you asked), this man had issues.

His head suddenly jerked up, causing me to startle and jump back in my seat.

"Besides, you're young. You probably wouldn't remember…" he trailed off.

"Remember what?"

He slowly turned towards me and began to stand up from his seat. My head shot back to the guards again, praying that they were watching. He stood in front of me and placed a hand on each of the arms of the chair.

"You should ask Joe."

"Who's Joe?" I asked nervously.

This vague exchange of words was making me very uncomfortable. And although he probably weighed about ten pounds wet, he had a big presence that was somewhat intimidating. He didn't answer me, but instead began to laugh. He pressed his thumb and forefinger into the corners of my mouth, forcing a smile onto my face.

"Hey!"

His head shot up to acknowledge the guards and backed away, putting his hands up into the air.

"We warned you not to touch other inmates! You're going back to your cell."

He kept his eyes on me while the guards placed cuffs back onto him. The creepy closed mouth smile never leaving his face. Security guided him out of the room and down the hall. I slumped down in my chair and let out a long breath.

"Are you okay?" Another guard asked.

"Who the hell was that?" I asked.

"That's Fleck."


	18. Chapter 18

The first few weeks in the Asylum were highly uneventful. If they weren't going to cure you by any regular means, they would do it with boredom. I felt it a catch-22 however, as the boredom never compelled me more to go out and do something mischievous with my time than it had then. I was anxious, and I was upset that the boss hadn't yet come for me. I thought for sure that I would hear an explosion and my knight in dirty purple lapels would come casually cackling into my cell. But it hadn't happened. And to say I was disappointed is an understatement.

My stay did, however, give me time to reflect on that fact. Maybe I wasn't as important to his plan as he chalked me up to be? Maybe _this _was a part of his plan? And how was I supposed to know?

While I sat in my cell staring at the wall, loud laughter echoed in the hallway. I pulled myself up to look out the window. As I had suspected, it was my neighbor. He had a strange way of laughing, that was unlike anything I had ever heard before. It wasn't comparable to the way the Joker laughed, as the Joker's was more playful. This was deep and intense. He usually did it when he was being moved from his cell, and I began to suspect that he only did it to creep out the guards. I'm not sure if it worked on them, but it certainly worked on me.

That man, the one they called Arthur Fleck, I had done everything in my power to avoid him ever since the day we had "met." Another inmate had told me that he had a small, but impressive rap sheet. Small, in comparison to the Joker's. Still, I would often request to take my recreation time in my cell to stay away. I wasn't sure what he had to do with the boss, as no one would or could tell me much about him.

_He called the Joker an imposter._

But the Joker doesn't have an identity, so how could that be? This was another fact I couldn't wrap my head around, and I had plenty of time to think about it.

I stood to the side of the window so he wouldn't see me while I observed him getting his cuffs removed by security. I hated the way he looked at me. Those eerie blue eyes stabbed straight through my brain.

_WHAM!_

A loud noise came from the window, inches away from my nose. I jumped back, nearly tripping over my mattress. Dean, one of the security guards who would often cart me around the asylum, waved his baton and laughed at me from the other side of the door. I rolled my eyes and slowly approached the door with my hands where they could be clearly observed. Dean slowly opened the door and signaled for me to put my hands out for the cuffs.

"You're scaring easier these days, Bennet. Have we finally put the fear back into you?"

"The others maybe. But not you, Dean. You're the least scary of them all."

I slyly smiled at him. While he was looking back down at me, he yanked on the cuffs to make sure they were tight.

"Start walking," he commanded.

I turned and began to make my way down the hall.

"Hi Kay," a raspy voice called out from behind me.

I stopped and looked back over my shoulder. Fleck had a wide, intense smile spread across his face. I felt that I could only approach his greeting one of two ways: I could make him a friend, or I could make him a foe. And since I wasn't particularly fond of the idea of being stabbed in the jugular while I slept, I chose the first option. If it suits my needs, I will always choose this option. Which is, unfortunately, one of the many missteps that landed me in the asylum.

"Hi Arthur," I responded quietly.

The wide smile fell from a long and wide Cheshire's grin, to a small smirk. He seemed pleased that I had responded, but I wasn't sure what it meant.

Dean bumped me in the shoulder with his baton.

"No time for socializing. Get going."

I began the two-person parade and was escorted to my daily therapy appointment. Dean led me inside. He didn't order me around; he knew that I was aware of what to do. I took my usual seat on the other side of the table, the furthest away from the window. He bent down to hook me onto the floor and left me alone in the room. Ten minutes passed, and Dr. Stoner finally made his entrance.

"Ms. Bennet. How are we this morning?"

He took a sip of coffee from a Styrofoam cup he was holding.

"Fine, I suppose," I replied.

"Just fine? Nothing to add?"

"I talk to you nearly every day. My life here in the asylum is painfully uneventful. Unless you'd like to talk about how many tiles I counted in my cell."

"That's quite alright," he said. "I did, however, want to pick up where we left off yesterday. Tell me more about your employer. You seemed hesitant yesterday."

I looked down at my hands and ringed my fingers.

"There's not much to tell. I don't even know that much about him."

"What type of man is he?"

"Well," I sighed. "He's smart. _Very _smart. And I wouldn't call him a kind person. He works within his needs."  
"I see. Are you afraid of him?"

I looked back up at the doctor.

"Sometimes."

"Only sometimes?"

"I'm not sure how to explain it. He has a way of making you feel at ease, although you sense that you should be on your guard. He's a very effective social engineer."

He jotted something down in my file and thought for a moment.

"Do you know what he's up to? If he's planning anything, I mean."

"No," I lied.

Of course the boss was up to something. I didn't know exactly what it was, but I knew it was better to keep my mouth shut. The boss was not fond of squealers.

"Kay," he began. "In order for us to help you and stop him, you need to tell me everything you know."

I laughed, "My closeness with the boss is only with proximity. He doesn't trust anyone, not even me. I don't know about plans until they're actually happening."

"Does that hurt you?"

"_Hurt _me?"

"The fact that he does not trust you. You've laid your life on the line for him, even saving his own. Yet, he does not believe you to be a trustworthy individual. Doesn't that bother you?"

"No."

_Liar, liar._

"Hm."

He began to write in the file again.

"I've also been told that you have befriended Arthur Fleck. What can you tell me about that?"

"Nothing. I wouldn't describe it as friendship. We've said very little to one another."

"You're better off cutting those small ties regardless. Fleck is…well, he's dangerous."

"He doesn't look dangerous. Crazy, yes, but not dangerous."

"What do you know about him?"

"Very little. I know that he's murdered people. That's about it."

"Has he asked you about your employer?"

"He called him an imposter."

"I see…well, again. Best that you don't provoke him."

"What do you know about him Dr. Stoner?"

"Oh, I know everything about him. I'm his psychiatrist as well. However, patient confidentiality prevents me from sharing that information with you."

I narrowed my eyes at the doctor and slowly nodded. I thought it was somewhat suspicious that he would try to guide me away from Arthur. Maybe there was something he didn't want me to know. There was also the possibility that he was afraid that I'd be murdered, very slim, but a chance.

"Moving on. I have prescribed you some medications. I feel that they can help you with your anxiety and other symptoms."

"Don't you have to diagnose me with something in order to medicate me?"

"Not necessarily."

"Then how do you know they'll do me any good?"

"I'm a doctor."

"You're full of shit."

He placed his pen down on the table and smiled thoughtfully at me.

"Are you feeling agitated, Ms. Bennet?"

"Yeah, Stoner. I'm feeling very agitated. I'm starting to feel like I'm not actually supposed to be here."

"Agitated, _and_ paranoid."

"Fuck you!"

I slammed my hands down on the table. The guards outside the door peered in.

"Why am I really here? Not for my own sake, I'm here for someone else's. You wanna stop the Joker? Go. Out. And fucking get him. Cause you're not getting answers from me."

The guards began to open the door, but the doctor waved them away. He calmly placed his hands on the table.

"No, Kay. You're going to tell me _everything._ Every story, every remark, every touch. I'll be sure of that."

I smiled and shook my head. "You'll have to try _real _hard."

He smiled back at me. "Guards! We have an upset patient in here. I need to administer sedation."

"What? No! I didn't do anything!"

The guards approached wielding their batons.

"Don't make this difficult Bennet."

"But nothing happened!"

I stood to get away but was stopped by the latch on the floor. I yanked and pulled on the metal hook, panicking like a caged animal.

"Don't sedate me!"

One of the guards approached from behind and placed his hands around my shoulders.

"Stay still."

The other guard reached down and unhooked me from the floor. I took the opportunity to kick him down and pushed myself back against the other guard, knocking him into the wall. But I didn't get far. The guard grabbed onto my chains, causing me to fall to the floor. I got up and attempted to get to the door. Dr. Stoner blocked my exit and held one of the guards' batons in his hand. He swung and caught me in the face, knocking me to the wall. I slid down to the floor; creating a bright red trail of blood onto the white tile on my way down.

"Stay down!"

Dazed, I stayed where I was and remained still. I saw double of the guards and Stoner. One of the guards put his hands underneath my arms while the other held onto my legs. They carried me back to my cell.

They waited for Dr. Stoner to unlock my cell in the hallway. I turned my head, and saw that Arthur was watching from his cell. He placed his hand on the window and let his fingertips glide down the glass. The door to my own cell swung open and they brought me in. I kept my eyes on Fleck. Dr. Stoner noticed, and yelled at his patient, demanding that he get away from the door.

I smiled as they restrained me to the bed. The doctor pulled a vile and syringe from his pocket and drew up some of the liquid.

As it entered my veins, I looked at the doctor.

"We're gonna get you, you know."

He furrowed his brow at me, and he vanished from my eyes.

* * *

I woke just as the sun was beginning to set. My eyes fluttered at the ceiling and blinked the sedation away. The bright yellow orange that erupted from the barred window over my head blazed against the white tile and burned my eyes. I turned my head towards the wall to avoid the light and saw that my hands were still in the Velcro restraints. I pulled my hand down towards my mouth to see if I could release myself, but I couldn't reach. My head plopped back against the mattress, and I let out a large sigh of disappointment.

"You did a great job playing dumb," a familiar voice cut through the silence.

I strained to lift my head from the mattress to see who was there. At the end of the bed, the Joker leaned against the wall. He wore no jackets, only his green vest and blue shirt. His focus was placed on his hands as he used his switch blade to clean the dirt from underneath his nails.

"Boss. Jesus. Untie me and let's get out of here," I said desperately.

"No…I don't think I will."

"What?!"

"Kay, pump-kin. Do you know why you're here? _Hm?_ Have you thought about that?"

I stared at him with my jaw hanging open.

"Why are you talking like that? _Please. _Get me out!"

He tilted his head in my direction and looked at me from under his eyebrows.

"Do. You. Know. Why you're here?"

"Stop asking me that," I cried.

He sighed, "I hoped for better from you, Kay. To be honest, I'm a little disappointed. Letting the Bat haul you away like that. It's like you _wanted_ to be taken here."

"That's not true," I whispered. "You _know_ that's not true."

A manic giggle protruded from him.

"_Oh, _heh. No, that's right. What did you tell me in the cage? _Boss! There's something wrong with me!" _He mocked and giggled. "Sounds to me like you've got issues. Maybe that's why you're here?"

I turned my head away.

"Shut up," I said.

"Poor Kay," he giggled. "Poor hopeless, lost, frightened Kay."

"SHUT UP!"

A loud knock came from the window. I lifted my head to look. Dean was getting ready to open the door. I looked back to where the boss had just been sitting; he was gone.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_

Dean approached the bed with another guard in tow.

"You ready to behave Bennet? We came to get you for dinner."

I looked at him, then back at the empty spot at the end of the bed.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I'll behave."

He leaned down and removed the restraints from my wrists and ankles. I sat up on the bed and reached up to my face to wipe the tears from my eyes.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah…I just had a really bad dream," I replied quietly.

"Alright. Get up."

I stood next to the mattress and walked to the doorway. All the inmates on the other side of the hallway were lined up in their doorways. Normally, I would have gone to dinner with the rest of the inmates on my side of the hallway, but because of the sedation, I was brought an hour later with the remaining inmates on the block.

Across from me, I saw Arthur standing in his doorway. In that moment, I wanted very badly to kneel at his feet and beg him for answers.

The guards instructed me to stand in line in the hallway. Arthur got in line behind me, and a cavalry of guards guided the onslaught of inmates to the cafeteria. Once I retrieved my dinner tray, I sat down at one of the round, yellow tables in the room. Arthur took the empty seat across from me and stared for a moment before carefully opening his milk and taking a sip. I sat still, as I wasn't too sure what to do or say to him. I was informed by another inmate that he was easily provoked and had a quick temper.

I took a small bite of my cheese sandwich and looked over at the guards. I wasn't sure if they were aware that Dr. Stoner did not want me to associate with him. In the moment, I supposed that they would have quickly removed him from my company if that had been the case.

"Hi…Arthur," I began.

He looked up from his tray.

"Hello, Kay."

His hands disappeared underneath the table and he smiled at me, almost thoughtfully. I took one quick glance back at the guards. He turned his head in curiosity.

"Don't worry about them," he said. "They won't bother us."

He had a polite, almost sweet-sounding voice. It was the opposite of the Joker's.

I wasn't sure how much I could get out of him in a short amount of time, so I cut straight to the chase.

"Why did you call the Joker an imposter?"

His mouth suddenly turned downwards. He lifted his hands from under the table and rested his head against them. From his nose, a small sigh came forth while his eyes glared up at me.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

He slammed an open palm against the table, causing me to jump and grip onto my seat.

"Are we going to have to take you two back to your cells?!" One of the guards yelled from across the room.

Instantaneously, Arthur's expression changed into a sickeningly charming smile as he looked towards the guard.

"We're fine! Just dropped my tray. Sorry!"

He turned back to me and the smile dropped from his face almost as fast as it appeared.

"He's not the Joker. Not the original one."

"Then who's the original?"

The smile returned. He leaned back in his chair and pointed at himself with two outstretched thumbs. His face was beaming with self-gratification.

"You're the original Joker?" I asked in disbelief.

"Guilty," he snickered.

His rapidly changing emotions were exhausting. It was difficult to imagine the man as anything but an inmate of the asylum.

"How? I mean…how did it begin?"

"I did something _very _funny. Problem was, no one else thought it was funny. I just wanted to make people laugh."

"What did you do?" I asked slowly.

"I was so…_tired _of being pushed around. For once, I just wanted to be noticed and loved. So, I decided that if I wasn't going to be loved as a good person, it didn't matter what I did anymore. I wanted to do the pushing. Nothing could hurt me."

He slowly opened and closed his eyes while turning in a shoulder towards his face.

"Arthur, what did you do?"

His face turned sour again.

"You know nothing about me. I know everything about you."

I was taken aback by this statement.

"How would you know anything about me?"

"The television. It tells me everything nowadays…my whole life, it's the only thing that's been reliable."

He'd been watching the news and eating up everything Gotham's media had to say about me.

He placed his hands back under the table and stared back at me.

"Kay Bennet, born Kaylin Bennet in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan on April 6, 1981. Moved to Gotham at the age of twenty-four to pursue a career in law. She stands at 5'4", with brown hair, and hazel eyes. Could be disguised in a clown mask. If seen, call the Gotham police immediately. Considered armed and dangerous. Do not approach."

During this recital of the GCN script, he never blinked. He didn't change the tone of his voice; it was like an emotionless robot was reading a public service announcement.

My eyes widened. I wanted to get up from the table and run away. Instead, I stayed put and tried to hide my amplified confusion and anxiety.

"Why did you memorize all of that?" I asked.

"In case we met one day," he sighed dreamily.

I thought that I'd experienced the peak of uncomfortable exchanges with the boss, this was beyond that.

"Didn't you _want _to meet me Kay? The inspiration for your work?"

My mouth hung open for a moment before I could answer.

"Of…course I did Arthur," I said in a shaky voice.

I was too afraid to admit that I'd never even heard of him before I was admitted. Although, he seemed satisfied with my answer. His smile returned and he began to eat his dinner.

_I need to get out of here before this psycho murders me._

* * *

That night, I sat on the edge of my bed and stared down at the floor. The moonlight from outside the window created shadows from the bars that spread towards the door. I was restless and uneasy as I replayed our dinner conversation. My intuition told me that I should drop it and leave it alone, but my curiosities told me that I should try to pry a bit more. But I did need to be careful. Arthur's emotions changed faster than anything I'd ever witnessed before, but he left me with more questions than he'd answered. I wasn't sure if he was sharp enough to realize that I would be using him for the information he could provide.

I stood from the bed and began to pace the floor. My hands swept through my hair while my bare feet slapped against the cold concrete floor.

"You believe him?"

I swung around and saw the Joker yet again sitting on my bed. This time, he sat with his back against the wall and his legs stretched out straight in front of him. I shook my head and looked away.

"You're not real," I muttered.

I looked back; he was still there. His hands ran over his torso.

"I'm _not_?" He tittered.

I slowly approached him at the bed and reached out to touch him. His filthy pant leg felt dusty and warm underneath my fingertips. He _felt_ real. I trembled and rested myself down between his legs, resting my head on his chest.

"Boss," I said. "What should I do?"

One of his hands combed through my hair while the other rested on my hip.

"Do you believe him?"

"I have no reason not to."

He laughed, "He's out of touch with reality. His mind is…flawed."

I lifted my head and looked up at him.

"Was he telling the truth? Is he the original?"

He smiled at me.

"You should get out."

I felt my face drop.

"Why won't you come for me?"

"Bennet!"

My head shot to the door, and I saw Dean staring back through the window. In front of me, there was only a cold white wall.

"Shut up and go to sleep!"


End file.
